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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24532003">Stellar Drift</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DionysusCrisis/pseuds/DionysusCrisis'>DionysusCrisis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Every Star Another Sun [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Invader Zim</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Angst, Blood and Injury, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Strong Language, ZADF, ZaDr, broken PAK, good old fashioned mad max racing, it's all fun and games until the truth comes out, mid-20s Dib, qpp zadr, space adventures but with a strong emphasis on interpersonal dynamics and EMOTIONS</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:55:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>39,819</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24532003</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DionysusCrisis/pseuds/DionysusCrisis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Get in, get the goods, get out. That was the advice Dib and Zim had been given about the black market planet called Currus. With the Voot Cruiser out of commission and Zim's PAK in need of repair, their plans to pursue their new nemesis - a former Control Brain engineer hellbent on reviving the fallen Irken Empire - are temporarily on hold. But that's nothing a little shopping trip can't fix, right?</p><p>Unfortunately, what starts as a supply run swiftly transforms into something far deadlier. The boys find themselves in a high-stakes round-the-world race, facing off against a field of bloodthirsty competitors for the chance to reclaim a vital treasure.</p><p>Many dangers await Dib and Zim within the unforgiving wilds of Currus, including a childhood adversary, hungry alien beasties, and an ever-expanding lie that threatens to shatter their hard-won partnership for good.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Every Star Another Sun [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636579</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>106</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>150</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Howdy! Welcome to the next big arc of my ongoing Intergalactic-Adventurers-Dib-and-Zim-Get-In-Way-Over-Their-Heads story! For the full scope and context, I recommend you start at the beginning of the series. But if you're like, "Naw man, I just want to watch some idiots get their domes rocked in a very Fury Road kind of way," then right on, have at it. Here's a terrible recap because I *can't* let this thing fester in my drafts any longer:</p><p>Once upon a time on planet Earth, President Man declared himself Supreme Elite World Emperor Man (farfetched, huh?), causing 20-something folklorist Dib and "Oops, that Florpus Hole situation from over a decade ago almost definitely killed my Tallests" Zim (and his Emotional Support SIR unit, GIR) to buddy up and peace out from the planet to study sociology in space. Of course, Dib is a sociologist in much the same way that Indiana Jones is an archaeologist. Where Dib and Zim venture, trouble is never far behind. So far, they've scuffled with a giant crab monster; taken down a cruel gladiatorial space station; uncovered a conspiracy to resurrect the dead Irken Empire; and stopped off for massages on a planet full of frog people.</p><p>Beep (the deranged ex-Control Brain engineer with a dream to become Tallest of a new era of Irken conquest) is still at large, despite her coliseum-based plans being thwarted. Now she's somewhere out there with a half-constructed Control Brain of her own, and it's up to Dib, ZIm, and Company to hunt her down. But the Voot needs fixed first, as does Zim's PAK, which is chock-full of corruption and losing functionality. How bad is that? It depends on who you ask. As far as Dib knows, the corruption is bad news, but not an immediate threat to Zim's life. Zim, on the other hand, knows he has less than a year to patch his PAK, which is deteriorating rapidly. But in Zim's mind, what Dib doesn't know won't stress him. And Dib is already *plenty* stressed, because it's up to him to save the universe from "Operation Encompassing Doom." You know, because he's The Hero. It has to be him.</p><p>And that's about where we stand, just in time for the boys to arrive on an inhospitable, black market planet. What could possibly go wrong?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Arriving on planet Currus was supposed to be much, much more exciting than this.</p><p>During the 40 hour trek from Dendroba to Currus, Zim had filled Dib’s mind with images of some kind of Wild West wonderland. Sparse towns, gruff locals, a vigilante-defended market system, all on a planet with such extreme seasonal variance that sapient life had never even evolved on it. The climate was too inhospitable to cultivate societies, and only the hardiest of immigrants managed to live there year-round.</p><p>As they’d descended toward the planet’s surface in a roaring, shuddering fireball, it was easy for Dib to imagine why. Most of the planet appeared to be a dry, craggy wasteland, an expanse of ruddy-gray ground spackled here and there with dusty patches of scrub. The lower the ship went, the more textures Dib had made out: a rise of cliffs here, a series of canyons further off. Though he’d never been there himself, Dib imagined this was something like the Australian outback, though the dirt lacked the distinctive orange coloration.</p><p>But Currus wasn’t <em>all </em>desert. During their descent, Dib had caught the faintest flash of light at the edge of the horizon, the suggestion of a lake or a sea somewhere beyond the curve of the planet’s surface. And then there was the town of Calamus, the supposed hub of seedy Irken dealings. The town was settled near the foothills of a broad mountain range, the peaks of which shone with dazzling snowcaps.</p><p>All in all, Currus seemed like a setting <em>ripe </em>for adventure.</p><p>Even as their ramshackle ship all but outright crashed at the edge of town, Dib fantasized about striding into Calamus in a swirl of sand like the Lone Ranger, his midnight-black coat beating in the wind like a banner…</p><p>But it wasn’t meant to be.</p><p>Instead, when the hatch of their smoldering ship groaned open, Dib was struck by a wave of heat so intense he felt instantly ill. Between the hot air and the wreath of smoke encompassing the vessel, Dib succumbed to a coughing fit that left him red-faced and breathless.</p><p>A pair of Irken claws yanked him back into the cabin.</p><p>“Can you breathe?” Zim asked, pushing Dib against the wall in a way which in fact made it <em>harder</em> to breathe.</p><p>Dib waved him off. “I’m fine,” he croaked, and cleared his throat one more time. “It’s just hotter than I expected. And we’re on fire again.”</p><p>“Only two of the thrusters are on fire this time,” Zim said. “Yeesh. What a queen of dramatics. If you’re going to be such a smeet about it, you can stay in here while I douse the flames. Come along, GIR.”</p><p>GIR nearly knocked Dib off his feet as he dashed after Zim to follow his master out of the ship. While Zim shouted orders to his minion outside, Dib reluctantly shrugged off his coat. His space-cowboy daydreams weren’t worth getting heat stroke for.</p><p>Once he’d lovingly folded and stowed his poor, tattered jacket, Dib took another shot at stepping through the hatch into the unforgiving sunlight. He shaded his eyes and watched as Zim finished blasting foam at one of the vessel’s fins using some kind of spray-bottle-shaped fire extinguisher. Beneath the fin, GIR was busy making froth-angels from the overflow.</p><p>The poor ship wasn’t made for this kind of stress. It was merely a temporary vessel, cobbled together from the ruins of the abandoned civilization back on Oobli A, where their real ship awaited repair. The reason they were on Currus in the first place was to barter for material with which to fix the Voot.</p><p>Well, one of the reasons.</p><p>Zim lowered his extinguisher and, noticing Dib’s eyes on him, flashed a confident smile and a thumbs-up.</p><p>“I take it the ship’s not going to combust or something?” Dib asked.</p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous,” Zim dismissed. “That said, we should avoid engaging the engines until I’ve had a chance to work on them. But there’s no need for that at the moment. We have SHOPPING to do!”</p><p>“What? Are we just going to leave the ship here?” Dib asked as Zim marched back into the cabin.</p><p>Zim opened a storage hatch and began rifling through its contents, grabbing goods to trade and chucking them over his shoulder into a pile. “I don’t see why not.”</p><p>Dib stood in the hatchway and gestured widely to the dilapidated buildings and husks of looted vehicles around them. “Does this look like a safe place to park to you?”</p><p>Zim leaned back to look outside. “Looks fine to me.”</p><p>“You don’t think it seems a little shady?”</p><p>“If anything, it’s a bit bright and exposed for my liking,” Zim said, returning to his task.</p><p>“Don’t play dumb. You know what I mean by ‘shady.’”</p><p>Zim sighed and dropped an armful of shiny metal rods onto his pile. “Dib, according to Skoodge, the whole planet is shady. It doesn’t matter where we leave the ship. Besides, we’ll be taking our most valuable materials with us. The ship's security system will take care of the rest.”</p><p>Dib raised a brow. “I didn’t know this hunk of junk had a security system.”</p><p>“Of course it does! GIR?”</p><p>GIR climbed into the hatchway next to Dib, his face completely covered in pastel pink fire-suppressant. “Look! I got a beard! I’m gonna be the next Ms. Universe!”</p><p>“Uh-huh. GIR, tell the Dib what your mission is.”</p><p>GIR wiped foam from his eyes and stared up at Dib. “World peace!”</p><p>“<em>No, </em>GIR. Today’s mission. We talked about this.” Zim tapped his foot impatiently.</p><p>“Oh riiiiight, guarding the ship,” GIR said. “I’m not doin’ that.”</p><p>Zim spluttered for a moment before he found his words again. “You most certainly <em>are </em>doing that! I’m ordering you to defend the ship while Dib and I are in the market.”</p><p>GIR’s eyes flashed red and his voice dropped. “Yes, Sir. I will defend the ship and I will accompany you to the market.”</p><p>“You can’t do both,” Zim said. “You can’t be in two places at once.”</p><p>The SIR’s eyes mellowed to their usual teal tone. “Sure I can! <em>Check it out</em>.”</p><p>GIR balled his fists and began to quake violently. Sensing an explosive outburst of some kind, Dib grabbed GIR’s arms to disrupt him.</p><p>“I think we get the picture,” Dib said as the vibrating stopped.</p><p>“Did you see it?” GIR eagerly asked Dib.</p><p>Dib smiled thinly. “Yep. Sure did.”</p><p>Zim shoved Dib aside. “Don’t coddle him, stink-brain. GIR, you must listen to me. You will stay with the ship. I forbid you to leave it.”</p><p>“But… But I gotta go with you,” GIR said, his smile drooping. “You need me.”</p><p>“I<em> need </em>you to stay here. Now, pack up this equipment. We’re burning daylight,” Zim said.</p><p>GIR whined as he hauled a large sack out of the top of his head and began shoveling the goods into it. Zim nodded approvingly and reached for another, smaller compartment in the wall. From it, he withdrew a small energy pistol and holster, which he tossed Dib’s way without warning.</p><p>Dib, caught off guard, juggled the pistol in his hands before safely catching it. “A heads-up would be nice next time,” he grumbled as he belted on the holster.</p><p>Zim ignored his comment. “That pistol is for show. Don’t get cocky with it.”</p><p>“It works though, right?”</p><p>“It works, but I’d rather not instigate a firefight in the middle of the market,” Zim said, slamming the compartment closed.</p><p>Dib adjusted the holster, secretly pleased at the opportunity to indulge in part of his cowboy daydream. “I dunno, man. Instigating a marketplace shoot-out sounds very ‘Zim’.”</p><p>Zim glowered at him.</p><p>Dib whistled. “Not in the mood for jokes. Got it.”</p><p>“This is a very serious endeavor, Dib-worm,” Zim said. “I’ve never visited this planet, but from what Skoodge shared with us, this is no place for fooling around.”</p><p>Dib nodded, and bent to assist GIR with the last of the equipment. Most of what they hoped to sell were scrap parts, only useful for the somewhat rare metal that comprised them. Zim had assured Dib that between their cred and these parts, they’d be suitably funded to buy Voot components. Of course, Dib wasn’t especially concerned about the Voot’s repair, as much as he felt a nostalgic connection to the vessel.</p><p>No, the real priority was finding something called an LSI-Ring for Zim’s PAK. If that was the only thing they came away with, then Dib would be satisfied. They could always buy or build another ship, or even give their existing rocket-powered-death-trap a renovation. Maybe it would be time-consuming and expensive, but it was possible.</p><p>And yet, Zim barely spoke about the LSI-Ring, even though he’d listed at length the various pieces of hardware required for the Voot Cruiser. He even muttered about prices and negotiation strategies in his sleep. It was weird enough that Zim was sleeping at all, but at least he’d explained that to Dib. Sleeping was merely a method to counteract the corruption in his PAK and give the PAK a chance to re-energize. It was unsettling to see Zim fully unconscious, but if it meant he was acknowledging that his PAK needed a break, Dib wouldn’t dwell on it.</p><p>“Dib, you carry the bag.”</p><p>Dib blinked away his thoughts and stared at the overstuffed backpack on the floor. The thing could hold at least four GIRs, and Dib’s spine ached just looking at it.</p><p>“We don’t have a cart or something?” Dib asked.</p><p>“If we had a cart, Zim would have said: ‘Dib, you tow the cart.’”</p><p>With a discontented huff, Dib hoisted the bag onto his back. It wasn’t as heavy as he’d feared, but it was cumbersome, and already putting a strain on his shoulders. “Listen, I’m grateful that you’re taking this seriously and are trying to be cautious, but don’t you think hauling around a giant bag of difficult-to-run-with valuables is asking for trouble?”</p><p>Zim crossed his arms, looking unimpressed. “If you’re so worried, then I’ll take the bag and go to the market alone.”</p><p>“As hilarious as it would be to watch your tiny gecko body lug this thing around, there’s no way I’m letting that happen,” Dib said. He boosted the pack a little higher, trying to relieve some of the pressure. “So, are we heading out?”</p><p>Zim nodded sharply, then turned to his minion. “GIR! We will be back shortly. Are you clear on your instructions?”</p><p>“Yes, my master…” GIR droned miserably. “You’ll be back soon?”</p><p>“As soon as we have what we need, yes,” Zim said.</p><p>GIR continued to frown. “And you won’t go out of range?”</p><p>Zim tilted his head, confused. “Our communicators will be well within range the entire time.”</p><p>GIR twisted his claws together anxiously, but remained silent.</p><p>“Oookay,” Zim said, throwing a final, skeptical look at his SIR. “We should get moving. Come on, Dib.”</p><p>As they walked away from the ship, Dib watched GIR from the corner of eye. The robot waited by the hatch door with an uncharacteristically morose expression. This wasn’t the first time GIR had been left in charge of guarding the ship while Zim and Dib were elsewhere. In fact, he’d been perfectly content to perform that duty less than two days ago, back on Dendroba. The malfunctioning bot wasn’t known for his consistency, but something about his current behavior felt off.</p><p>As they rounded the corner of a collapsed building, Dib spoke quietly to Zim. “I think something’s up with GIR.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” Zim asked, picking his way over a low mound of rubble.</p><p>“Doesn’t he seem, I don’t know, extra clingy today?”</p><p>“He probably just wanted to come along so he could pick out a souvenir,” Zim said.</p><p>Dib slipped a little as he followed Zim over the shattered blocks of concrete, but caught himself before he lost control of the backpack. “You’re not worried he’s going to follow us?”</p><p>“Naaah. He knows I pick out the best souvenirs for him.”</p><p>“I don’t think this is about souvenirs,” Dib said.</p><p>“It doesn’t matter. I ordered him to stay behind, and he <em>will </em>stay behind,” Zim said. “Now, hurry up. I want to get there before midnight.”</p><p>Dib rolled his eyes and decided the effort of arguing with Zim wasn’t worth the energy. Sweat tickled the back of his neck, and the straps of the backpack were already biting into his shoulders. Dib distracted himself from his discomfort by observing the structures around them.</p><p>The closer they got to the town proper, the more intact the buildings became. Most were squat, thick-walled cubes made from some sort of purple-gray cement. Other buildings had a metallic gleam that Dib couldn’t readily identify. Altogether, the architecture was ugly and plain, but likely very practical in the face of extreme weather.</p><p>Eventually, Dib could make out the sound of voices up ahead. Zim – who had been several paces in front of him – paused for Dib to catch up, then pulled a tablet from his PAK.</p><p>“I’ll do the talking. If anyone asks, you’re my empty-headed alien servant. A bag-carrying service drone who is not permitted to speak,” Zim said.</p><p>“Cool. Love it,” Dib deadpanned.</p><p>“Alert me if you happen to notice any of these parts,” Zim continued, nonplussed. He scrolled slowly through the tablet, displaying the various coils, batteries, and other gadgets that they were shopping for. He’d talked about the items frequently, but hadn’t shown them to Dib before now. Fortunately, having spent his fair share of time working on the Voot himself, Dib recognized many of the shapes.</p><p>When a circular device appeared on the screen, Dib stayed Zim’s hand. “Is that the LSI-Ring?”</p><p>“Yes,” Zim said.</p><p>“Don’t you think we should try to find that part first?”</p><p>Zim stared at the screen as if he were processing Dib’s suggestion. “… Yes, ideally. But we should still be looking for <em>all </em>of these parts. Now, I hope you’ve made note of the items we’re after. And you remember your role?”</p><p>Dib sighed through his nose. “Yep. Mute alien servant with a pistol for some reason.”</p><p>“You get a pistol because you are a highly valued and deeply trusted service drone,” Zim said, and he flashed Dib a shit-eating grin. “Such a good drone. What an honor!”</p><p>“You jerk,” Dib grumbled, but he found himself smiling back.</p><p>Predictably, Zim cut the moment short. “Shut up and follow me.”</p><p>Dib lumbered after Zim down an alleyway between more purple-gray buildings, wondering how badly his sweat was already staining his shirt. He tugged at his shirt’s collar to get more airflow as he followed Zim into the main Calamus thoroughfare.</p><p>Suddenly, the voices he’d noticed before were much louder. Vendors shouted deals into the street, their words instantly translating through the TransDibber on Dib’s wrist and transmitting to an implant in his molar. Pedestrians chatted amongst themselves and called questions to the shopkeepers, and as curious as Dib was about their words, he had to shut them out in order to focus on his surroundings.</p><p>A wide road extended in front of him, crowded with vibrant market stalls and colorfully-clothed aliens. Like Dendroba, a diverse array of species wandered through the stands. <em>Unlike </em>Dendroba, a considerable number of the market patrons were Irken. They moved among the other customers in little clusters, and Dib was somewhat surprised to see that the other species paid them little mind. Then again, Calamus was supposedly a hub of Irken trading, which perhaps offered an incentive for all the assorted species to get along. Irk’s tech, if Dib took Zim’s word for it, was enviable across the galaxy. Maybe the interest in Irken goods outweighed the animosity toward their race as genocidal conquerors.</p><p>At least in this singular town on Currus, anyway.</p><p>“Stay close,” Zim hissed to Dib as he forged a path through the crowd.</p><p>The street stalls were a cartoonishly bright contrast to the dull concrete buildings around them. Dib stood on his toes to peek inside one such building and caught a glimpse of stacked crates and long rows of shelving. It seemed the buildings themselves acted as warehouses for the open-air market.</p><p>A hand closed around Dib’s wrist and yanked him to the side before he could collide with the corner of a stall selling bolts of luminescent fabric.</p><p>“Pay attention!” Zim snapped.</p><p>Remembering the instruction not to speak, Dib raised his hands in a gesture of innocence. Zim growled and, his claws still around Dib’s wrist, pulled the human further into the densely-packed market.</p><p>After a few minutes of maneuvering through the masses, Zim again tugged on Dib’s arm to draw him toward a larger stand. This one was more integrated with the blocky building behind it. Through the wide doorway, an assortment of engines and other large pieces of machinery awaited purchase. At least one of the engines displayed the telltale organic design of Irken engineering.</p><p>“You! Shopkeeper!”</p><p>Dib cringed at Zim’s exclamation, but remained in character.</p><p>A wide-framed, pink-eyed Irken looked up from the other end of the stall, where she’d been busy assisting a purple-skinned Vortian customer. The Irken murmured something to the Vortian, who nodded and resumed parsing through a box of goods on the counter.</p><p>“Can I help you?” the Irken asked as she approached Zim and Dib. Her voice was unexpectedly high and sweet, considering she was nearly Dib’s height and built like a refrigerator.</p><p>“I’m looking for Voot Cruiser parts,” Zim said. Dib noticed he was standing on his toes, not that it made him much taller.</p><p>“Oh sure, we have plenty of Voot components,” said the shopkeeper, cheerfully. “Looking for anything in particular?”</p><p>Zim rattled off a series of parts while Dib bit his tongue. Clearly, Voot equipment wasn’t a rarity. What they really needed were PAK parts. They could always come back here <em>after </em>they secured the ring.</p><p>“I think I have a charging cell like that in the back,” the shopkeeper said in response to the last item in Zim’s list. “Why don’t you check that bin over there for the smaller pieces while I look for it?”</p><p>Once the shopkeeper had disappeared into the shadows of her warehouse, Zim approached the metal tub she’d directed them to. It sat atop the counter a few feet away, and to Dib, it seemed terribly exposed. For a bustling, Irken-dominated market, the atmosphere here felt oddly lax.</p><p>“We could steal this stuff, I bet,” Zim said, apparently riding the same wavelength as Dib.</p><p>“You were the one who warned me about fooling around, remember? Let’s not push our luck,” Dib said as he pawed through the collection of Irken hardware. After checking for potential eavesdroppers, Dib continued. “I noticed you didn’t mention the ring.”</p><p>“This vendor obviously deals in ship components, not PAK parts. We’ll get to it,” Zim said, inspecting a coil of maroon tubing.</p><p>“I know, but-” Dib paused as he found a chunk of circuitry that he recognized from the list. “Oh! Isn’t this for the navigational system?”</p><p>“Eh?” Zim snatched the piece from his hands and squinted at it. “It… it <em>is. </em>How did you know we were looking for that?”</p><p>“Uh, because you showed me? Like, less than 10 minutes ago?”</p><p>“No I di-” Zim cut himself off, and a strange expression flickered across his features, so fast that Dib nearly missed it. A flash deep inside of Zim’s magenta eyes, a spasm at the corner of his mouth. Dib knew Zim’s anger, and this <em>wasn’t </em>anger.</p><p>Whatever it was, it vanished as quickly as it appeared, chased away by the shopkeeper returning from the depths of her warehouse. She placed a tall, metallic cylinder on the counter in front of them and gave the top of it a proud little pat.</p><p>“Excellent shape for its age, this one. What do you think?” she asked.</p><p>“We’ll take it,” Zim said quickly.</p><p>Dib opened his mouth to speak but, remembering his instructions, swiftly shut it again and settled for pinching Zim’s arm.</p><p>Zim jumped away from him. “Ow! Hey! What’s gotten into you, bag drone?”</p><p>Dib held up his hand, his thumb and fingers shaping a ring. It took Zim a second to catch his drift, but his resulting snarl assured Dib that the Irken did indeed understand.</p><p>Zim composed himself and turned back to the vendor. “There is another matter with which you may be able to assist me, despite this <em>clearly </em>being a shop for vehicle parts.”</p><p>Dib rolled his eyes, and the shopkeeper tilted her head, confused. Zim beckoned for her to lean closer, and with some (completely justified) trepidation, she did.</p><p>“I am also seeking PAK components. Do you know of anyone who deals in such things?” Zim asked, his voice low.</p><p>The shopkeeper’s confusion fell away, and she drew back to laugh. “Oh! Oh, you were just doing a bit. I thought you were looking for drugs or something.” She paused, looking thoughtful. “<em>Are </em>you looking for drugs? I know a guy. And you don’t have to be all that hush-hush about it around here, either. This your first time on Currus?”</p><p>“What? No – I mean, yes – I mean… URGH!” Zim grabbed his antennae, but before he could pull, Dib placed his hand on the back of Zim’s neck. Zim froze for a beat, then released his feelers and straightened his posture. “I was <em>not </em>doing a ‘bit.’ I require PAK components. Not for myself, of course! For a project.”</p><p>The shopkeeper’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh. This really <em>is </em>your first time here, isn’t it?”</p><p>Zim’s antennae flattened against his skull. “So what if it is?”</p><p>“No insult intended!” said the shopkeeper. “It’s just that you’re not going to find anything like that in the marketplace. PAKs, robotics, basically anything advanced enough to be manufactured on Machinus is forbidden around here.”</p><p>“What? Why?” Zim asked.</p><p>“You think the Resisty are still manufacturing Irken tech on Machinus now that they have control of the planet? Don’t make me laugh. Unless you really <em>are </em>doing a bit, and this is still a joke?”</p><p>“… Yes… I’m still joking…” Zim said with a painfully fake smile.</p><p>“Ha! You’re a funny little guy, huh?” the shopkeeper beamed, oblivious.</p><p>“Yes. I’m hilarious. Now, for the sake of the joke, what were you saying about Machinus?”</p><p>“Well, the planet's been locked down for a few years now. There’s even talk that they’ll blow the whole thing up, just in case the last of the Empire loyalists manage to get a new smeetery up and running. Easier to make smeets than to build a new PAK-making facility from scratch, especially without the Control Brains,” the shopkeeper explained. “As you can imagine, then, there’s quite a demand for all the advanced tech that used to come out of Machinus. For a while, you could get away with pirating parts and making a tidy profit off of them, but after the Resisty took full control and cracked down on smuggling? Every market on Currus went <em>crazy </em>over the stuff. It was chaos. People were murdering each other in the streets over it. Eventually, Esh-El’s Order stepped in to ban all Machinus-made technology from the marketplace, or else we wouldn’t even <em>have </em>a marketplace left to trade in.”</p><p>“So, there are no PAK parts on this planet?” Dib blurted. Zim glared daggers at him, but made no comment.</p><p>“Even the bag drone is in on it, eh?” the shopkeeper said with a wink, apparently still convinced that this was some kind of comedy sketch. “Oh, you can find what you’re looking for here, but it isn’t easy.”</p><p>“I demand to know how!” Zim said, his claws splayed on the countertop.</p><p>“All the Machinus-made goods that were confiscated after the ban are guarded by Director Esh-El and used as grand prizes for the Round-the-World Rally,” the shopkeeper said. “If you want to get your hands on functional PAK-ware, you have to win the race.”</p><p>“Explain this race you speak of,” Zim said.</p><p>Once again, the shopkeeper broke out in giggles. “You’re really committed to this joke, aren’t you?” she said as she wiped a tear from her eye.</p><p>Dib had had enough. “OK, I don’t know how any of this seems like a joke to you, but it’s not. We’re new here, and we want to know what’s going on. Can you help us or not?”</p><p>“Wait, are we still riffing, or…?” The shopkeeper’s brow ridges furrowed in genuine confusion.</p><p>“JUST TELL ZIM ABOUT THE RACE!” Zim shouted, his PAK legs boosting him to eye-level with the baffled vendor.</p><p>“Yeesh, sorry, I thought we were doing a little scene,” she said, stepping back. “<em>This </em>is why they cut you from the improv troupe, Didi… Anyway, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. I’m just surprised that you’re here the day before the biggest event of the trading season without even knowing what it is.”</p><p>As intrigued as Dib was by the jarring concept of an Irken improv troupe on a lawless desert planet, he forced himself to stay on task. “So, if I’m understanding you correctly, there’s going to be a race around the world tomorrow, and the winner gets access to rare technology?”</p><p>“Yes, that’s right,” the shopkeeper said, watching Zim warily as he lowered himself and retracted his metal limbs. “That’s why it’s so busy here today. The Rally draws a huge crowd. It’s <em>great</em> for business. Oh! Speaking of, I was just helping a competitor with something. She might be able to tell you more about the race itself.” She turned back toward the Vortian she’d been assisting previously, who was still stationed at the far end of the stall, carefully counting out pieces of hardware on the counter. “Hey! These guys want to know about the Rally!”</p><p>The purple Vortian tensed and shot a withering look toward the shopkeeper. “Actually, I need to get going. Hold these for me,” she said in a lilting, nasally voice as she pointed at the collection of parts.</p><p>“Will do!” the shopkeeper said as the Vortian strode away on spindly, goat-like legs. “Must be those pre-competition jitters. That’s alright. Are you two looking for a good spot to watch the start? I know a rooftop where you can see the starting line. The owner sets up a bunch of seats, too. You might have to sit in someone’s lap, but-”</p><p>“That’s OK,” Dib said, cutting her off. “Your name’s Didi, right?”</p><p>The shopkeeper – <em>Didi </em>– nodded.</p><p>“Didi, if we were interested in participating in the race, would we need to register for it or something?” Dib asked.</p><p>Didi grinned. “You really are a plucky pair. You two have a Drifter?”</p><p>“Is that the type of ship they race here?” Dib asked.</p><p>“It’s basically a ship, yes, but it has to stay within a certain distance of the ground. I’m not really the one to ask about it, though. If you want the full set of regulations, you should probably talk to Esh-El’s Order. They’re the ones to ask about registration, too. Their headquarters is just a couple blocks away. You can’t miss it, I promise. Plus, I hear they have the grand prize package on display there, if that’s of any interest.”</p><p>“That’s <em>definitely </em>of interest,” Dib said. “Which way did you say that was?”</p><p>Didi pointed further down the thoroughfare.</p><p>“Great, thanks!” Dib adjusted the bag on his aching shoulders and made to leave the stall, but Zim’s hand stopped him.</p><p>“Aren’t you forgetting something, <em>bag drone</em>?” Zim said. Dib stared at him blankly. “We have trades to make, remember?”</p><p>Dib started to argue, but then realized Zim was right. If they couldn’t purchase PAK parts, then they may as well offload their goods and buy the available Voot equipment. Still, he didn’t want to waste much time here. He needed to see that prize display. If it had what they were after, maybe they wouldn’t need to race for it at all. Dib could already see himself descending from the ceiling, <em>Mission Impossible</em>-style, to secretly swipe an LSI-Ring from a technological treasure hoard. He’d hacked into a giant space station before; surely he and Zim could manage a smaller-scale heist in a town where half the buildings sat in abandoned disrepair.  </p><p>Dib shifted the pack off of himself and grimaced at the way his shirt clung to his back with sweat. As gross as it was, at least he <em>could </em>sweat. Zim, on the other hand, had wilted a little during their time in the market. His tongue lolled out of his mouth in a lazy pant as he dug through the bag and hauled out pieces to offer to Didi. Maybe it was a good plan to find a cool place to rest for a moment before they went to this “Esh-El’s Order” place.</p><p>Dib was about to ask Didi if she knew somewhere they could get a cold drink when a commotion rose up from a few stands away. Dib, who had been leaning against the counter while Zim and Didi bartered, straightened up to his full height to see over the crowd.</p><p>“Ope, someone’s causing a stink again,” Didi commented. She clucked her tongue and went back to typing numbers into a tablet. “You know, things got so, well, <em>orderly </em>once Esh-El’s Order showed up a few years ago. But every year around the time of the Rally, some poor newcomer or other tries to pull something stupid in the marketplace. They never know what they’re in for.”</p><p>A sudden electric thrum lifted the hair on Dib’s arms. Over the heads of the rapidly dispersing crowd, Dib glimpsed the pronged tops of spear-like weapons that glowed with crackling blue energy. The marketplace patrons avoided the approaching weapon-bearers, but the street was still too packed for Dib to get a good look at them. Through a brief gap in the crowd, Dib caught a flash of light, a crystalline glimmer that might have been a mask, or might have been part of whatever species was carrying the spears.</p><p>Four spears of the eight that had arrived tilted down in flawless synchrony, and a thunderous clap broke the air, followed by a short, tinny shriek. A hush fell over the street as several dozen aliens waited for whatever was coming next. Dib felt the collective tension of the crowd release as the spears lifted upright again, no longer swarming with electricity. The spears formed a circle around whatever unfortunate creature had invoked their wrath, and then, as swiftly as they’d arrived, the spear-carriers paired up and marched away. The crowd flowed back together, and the chatter of the market resumed as though nothing had happened.</p><p>“Guess it was just something petty,” Didi said, sounding a touch disappointed.</p><p>“Did they just murder someone?” Dib asked, tearing his eyes away from the scene.</p><p>Didi shrugged. “Maybe? It’s good that we heard a scream. Because when you <em>don’t </em>hear a scream…”</p><p>Dib frowned, needing no additional explanation. When he looked to Zim for his reaction, he found Zim still staring into the crowd, his eyes wide and antennae ramrod straight.</p><p>“Hey, you good?” Dib asked quietly while Didi resumed her typing.</p><p>“I thought I heard…” Zim shook his head, and his antennae fell limply back.</p><p>“Zim…?”</p><p>But Zim had already turned his attention back to Didi, with whom he started a debate over the value of the navigational circuitry Dib had found. Dib stood aside and let the Irkens haggle for a while until at last both parties seemed satisfied. The transaction complete, Dib packed the new materials and the remaining unsold goods into their bag and slung it onto his back.</p><p>Dib assumed Zim would start complaining as soon as they were a safe distance from Didi’s booth, heading in the direction she’d indicated before. He’d clearly been frustrated with some of her deals, though they’d sounded reasonable to Dib. Knowing Zim, he probably expected the shopkeeper to agree to all his initial, way-too-low offers. All in all, Dib thought they’d landed on some good bargains. He was about to say as much when Zim suddenly tripped over his own boots and clanged into an electronic menu board, causing it to flicker.</p><p>Dib lunged to catch Zim and pull him away from the board as the food-seller behind it raised a menacing, vulture-like claw at them and grunted something in a language his translator didn’t respond to.</p><p>“Sorry!” Dib called to the vendor as he steadied Zim on his feet.</p><p>Whether or not the unidentified alien understood the apology, they seemed appeased enough and went back to stirring their vat of sweet-smelling yellow goop.</p><p>“What was that? Are you OK?” Dib asked. With his hands still on Zim’s shoulders, he could feel the heat rising from his PAK. “Whoa, your PAK’s burning up…”</p><p>Zim shrugged Dib’s hands away and quickened his pace down the street. “That’s because this horrible place never developed urban climate control. Still, we’ve been on hotter planets. Eeugh, you got your nasty human juices on my shirt…”</p><p>Dib checked his wrist, where his TransDibber had automatically adjusted to local time. “We still have a lot of daylight to work with. Maybe we could take a break, grab something to eat?”</p><p>“I thought you were in a hurry to get to the ‘Shelly’ Order.”</p><p>“We can afford a quick detour. There has to be <em>something </em>I can digest around here. Why don’t we find another food stall, then look for some shade where we can… Hey, what are you doing?”</p><p>Zim’s communicator hung in front of his face and he blinked at Dib as if the human were a bothersome child he’d been tasked with babysitting. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m checking in with GIR.”</p><p>“OK, makes sense, but do you want to maybe step out of the street to do that?” Dib said, swerving to avoid a Plookesian who had accidentally stumbled into his path.</p><p>But Zim was already ranting into the communicator. “GIR! I require a status update. Are you and the ship still secure? Any sign of looters? GIR?”</p><p>Static, and then a garbled version of GIR’s voice came through. “M-mas-Master? Hi! H-hi hi! Hi!”</p><p>“We’re getting some interference… Standby, GIR. I think I see an open area up ahead.”</p><p>Zim doubled his speed, and Dib had to jog to keep up with him. As Zim had anticipated, the street opened up into a wide town square. There were fewer stands here, but they were of a higher quality and arranged in a tidy ring around a 20-foot-tall crystal obelisk in the middle of the square which scattered bands of rainbow light across the scene. A festive, whistling tune carried over the plaza from an unseen stage, and a few small, bird-like aliens (perhaps even children?) danced gleefully to the music.</p><p>Skoodge had <em>not </em>mentioned this. But then again, Dib was pretty sure Skoodge had done his trading in a different town. Dib and Zim had only come to Calamus because of its rumored specialty in Irken goods. Unless Skoodge had indeed been here but failed to notice the town square?</p><p>No, surely not. He had to have visited somewhere else on the planet. Somewhere far more dubious, and with fewer crystalline spires and skipping youths.</p><p>“GIR, can you hear me?” Zim panted, finally coming to a stop.</p><p>“Yeah! I c-c-c-caaaaannnn hearrrrr-” The connection seemed to break, but then GIR’s voice chimed in again. “Hi, my Master-ster!”</p><p>“I need you to focus,” Zim said, his tone shifting into something softer, a voice he only used for GIR. “What’s your status?”</p><p>“I’m in a pal-pal-palace!”</p><p>“You can tell me stories later, GIR. I need an update.”</p><p>“Hi, my-my-my Master! I <em>love</em> you!”</p><p>Dark tendrils of dread creeped from the pit of Dib’s stomach up toward his throat as it dawned on him that it wasn’t bad reception that was distorting GIR’s voice. An idea pinged in his head, and Dib moved away from Zim to get a better look at the buildings surrounding the square, a task made difficult by the taller, sturdier market booths arranged across it.</p><p>“GIR, I’m picking out a souvenir for you now, but you’re only going to get it if you report on your status!” Zim said.</p><p>“You said-said – You said you wouldn’t go out-t-t-t of range! Of range!”</p><p>“<em>Report</em>, GIR. Right now!” Zim demanded, his gentleness breaking into something more strained and bordering on panicked.</p><p>And then Dib saw it. On the opposite end of the plaza: a jagged, sparkling pyramid of quartz. A palace if Dib had ever seen one.</p><p>“Zim!”</p><p>Zim’s head snapped in his direction, and Dib pointed toward the structure. Realization brightened Zim’s tired eyes, and in a flash of metal, his PAK legs deployed. As surprised patrons dodged out of his way, Zim beelined for the crystal castle with Dib in hot pursuit, shouting apologies to the vendors whose stands Zim vaulted over.</p><p>Dib’s heart nearly burst out of his chest as they neared the “palace.” An array of guards, all bearing electric spears and gleaming armor, flanked the entrance to the pyramid. Dib had little time to take the structure in, but it reminded him of the wild geometrical architecture that formed in ice caves and crystal caverns.</p><p>To Dib’s surprise, even as Zim barreled past the guards, none of them so much as flinched. They simply watched through delicate quartz masks as Zim and Dib raced into the building.</p><p>They both skidded to a halt at the sight of an enormous, glowing cube. It floated in the middle of the hollow interior of the pyramid, rotating slowly, casting a shifting cerulean light across the angular walls which housed it. It felt to Dib as though he were in the depths of the ocean, the sunlight filtering down to him through layers and layers of sea. For a few seconds, he forgot why he’d run in here in the first place.</p><p>Then his eyes adjusted. The cube – at least the size of his father’s house back on Earth, if not larger – was not a solid block of blue. Instead, suspended within it were dozens of objects, ranging in size from tiny clusters of screws to fully-constructed control panels. Dib knew instantly from the unmistakably Irken nature of the objects that this was the Rally prize Didi had spoken of. He understood now why the guards hadn’t fretted over their rush to the inside. There would be no subtle infiltration of such a treasure. Dib could hack a digital security system, sure. But this?</p><p>If Dib didn’t know better, he’d call it magic.</p><p>“Oh, h-h-hi, Mas-Master!” GIR burbled through Zim’s communicator.</p><p>There, floating front and center, was the singed but smiling form of Zim’s perpetual companion. GIR waved a broken mechanical claw at them.</p><p>“Fuck,” said Dib, leaning forward with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. He’d gotten what he wished for, he supposed. Suddenly, Currus had become infinitely more exciting.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Before Dib could do anything other than swear, Zim’s lasers were out of his PAK and powering up. Zim fired a series of bolts into the giant cube which imprisoned GIR, but as soon as the blasts met the cube’s surface, they seemed to splatter and ripple away, as harmless as raindrops striking a pond.</p>
<p>Dib reached for Zim’s wrist as the twin lasers recharged for another round. “Stop it! You’re going to get us killed!”</p>
<p>Zim yanked his hand away from Dib and wheeled to face him, his eyes aglow with blind fury. “They STOLE him!” he screamed. “NO ONE steals from ZIM!”</p>
<p>The guards outside of the pyramid began to file in, their steps slow and synchronized, their trident-like weapons buzzing to life. Dib tasted the sharpness of ozone in the air.</p>
<p>“Zim, you have to calm down,” Dib said, cautiously slipping himself between Zim and the cube. “Maybe there’s someone we can talk to about this, but we can only talk to someone if we’re not dead.”</p>
<p>Dib gestured with a subtle angling of his chin toward the guards circling in around them. Zim followed Dib’s gaze, his manic eyes darting between the crystal-masked watchmen. His lasers still arced above him like a pair of cobras waiting to strike, but the glow faded from them. A step in the right direction.</p>
<p>Suddenly, Zim straightened up and faced the closest guard. “You! I demand to speak with your commander!”</p>
<p>The guard – long-bodied with an angular head, like an oversized stick-bug – said nothing.</p>
<p>Zim crouched, and Dib barely managed to catch the back of his shirt in time to stop him from lunging at the guard claws first. Dib pulled Zim back against himself, wincing as the intense heat of his PAK scalded his stomach.</p>
<p>“Where is your commander?! ANSWER ME!” Zim howled, struggling against Dib’s arms.</p>
<p>“I understand you wish to see us?”</p>
<p>A tall, two-headed form appeared from behind the guards and approached Zim and Dib. Dib was eye-level with the alien’s shoulders, and their slender, reptilian necks gave them nearly another foot of height. Both heads were distinctly snakelike, but with larger, more expressive eyes and a slightly flatter profile. Their pale skin was scaled, yet looked soft to the touch. The scales glittered in the blue light of the cube, and Dib couldn’t decide what their true colors were.</p>
<p>“Why don’t we all introduce ourselves?” suggested one of the heads in a deep, smooth voice that contrasted with the more feminine voice that had spoken before. “We are Esh-El. Individually, my sister is Esh, and I am El. We are the Director of this order. And you are…?”</p>
<p>With a sudden wrenching of his body, Zim escaped Dib’s clutches and puffed himself up in front of Esh-El. “I AM ZIM! And you have ABDUCTED my-” He lost the sentence for a second, but quickly jumped back in. “You’ve stolen my property, and you will release him at once!”</p>
<p>Both of Esh-El’s heads tilted to the left. “Him? Are you speaking of the SIR unit?” asked Esh, the so-called “sister” head.</p>
<p>“The SIR unit is unregistered,” El said in an infuriatingly calm tone. “But even if it were, we could not return it to you. We do not steal, but to maintain order in the Calamus market, we must confiscate prohibited goods.”</p>
<p>“This is all just a big misunderstanding,” Dib said with his hands raised placatingly. “We didn’t know about the ban when we arrived on Currus. We only heard about it when we were in the marketplace. If you give us back the SIR unit, we’re more than happy to get him off the planet.”</p>
<p>Four slit-pupiled eyes locked onto Dib, sending a chill up his spine.</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m <em>sure</em> you’d be happy to take that SIR off-world,” said Esh. Dib could see now that her eyes were a bright tangerine color, while her counterpart’s were a glimmering navy. “We did not hatch yesterday, you know.”</p>
<p>“Esh, easy,” El murmured. He smiled softly at Dib. “Perhaps we do have a misunderstanding on our hands. Let’s address this rationally. But first, we didn’t catch your name?”</p>
<p>“Dib Membrane,” said Dib, suppressing the urge to extend his arm for a handshake, since it apparently wasn’t a universal greeting.</p>
<p>El’s head dipped politely. “A pleasure to meet you. Now, allow me to clear up some things. You may not have known about the ban, but it is effectively a law on this planet, as overseen by our Order. So, even under the assumption that this unregistered SIR unit that we found wandering the market is in fact yours, we have no choice but to detain it. Like all other Machinus technology, it belongs to the Order now, regardless of its previous ownership.”</p>
<p>“What belongs to the Order belongs to the people,” Esh added.</p>
<p>Before either Zim or Dib could counter, the ring of guards spoke en masse.</p>
<p>“What belongs to the Order belongs to the people,” they repeated.</p>
<p>Zim’s entire body quivered with rage. “I see what’s happening here. You’re nothing but filthy, smelly, <em>scavenger worms</em>!”</p>
<p>“Will you be entering the race, then?” El asked, unaffected by Zim’s insult.</p>
<p>“Eh?”</p>
<p>“If you want the SIR, you’ll have to win it,” El said. The hand on what Dib assumed to be “his” side of their body reached into the pocket of their white, silken jumpsuit and retrieved a small data card. “The Round-the-World Rally is a three day Drifter race that starts and ends here in Calamus. Anyone can compete, so long as you use a ship that’s modified to meet Drifter qualifications. I have all the details about those qualifications, the registration process, and the race rules here on this card. Are you interested?”</p>
<p>Dib scoffed. “Right. And how much are you going to charge us for it?”</p>
<p>Both of Esh-El’s faces drew back in surprise.</p>
<p>“There’s no cost. We’re giving it to you,” Esh said, a hint of irritation coloring her words.</p>
<p>“I think perhaps you’re still not clear on the nature of our Order. We value fairness and community, and we intend to help this market prosper,” El said. “The days of bloody brawls and underhanded dealings are over. Calamus is becoming a safer place to trade. Better goods, less risk, all thanks to our alliance with its vendors and visitors.”</p>
<p>Esh-El extended their hand toward Dib, offering him the card. El continued to speak.</p>
<p>“This race is intended to engage the community and to remove controversial goods from the marketplace in a competitive and entertaining way. Charging competitors to enter the race hardly seems fair.”</p>
<p>“The race itself will be costly enough,” Esh said with a smirk.</p>
<p>Dib reached tentatively for the card resting in Esh-El’s palm, but Zim knocked his hand aside.</p>
<p>“This is dookie!” Zim snarled. “I REFUSE to compete for what’s rightfully mine!”</p>
<p>A luminous, blue tongue flicked out of Esh’s mouth and she inclined her head toward her brother’s. “Ugh, El, why can’t we just give it to them and boot them off Currus? I mean, we saw the SIR up close… Its head is full of actual garbage. Nobody’s going to want that broken, defective piece of-”</p>
<p>Zim screamed and launched forward, claws outstretched, teeth bared, and PAK lasers reengaging. A shining blur whipped out to intercept him from somewhere behind Esh-El, striking him across the chest and knocking his PAK limbs back. His lasers fired up at the vaulted, crystal ceiling, which, much like the prize cube, seemed to absorb the energy in an instant. Whatever hit Zim tossed him backwards into Dib hard enough that they both crashed onto their backs. Dib’s backpack stopped him from cracking his skull against the glassy floor, but its blocky, metallic contents prodded painfully into his spine.</p>
<p>Ignoring his own discomfort, Dib wrapped his arms tightly around Zim to prevent him from leaping back up. Zim, however, slumped against his chest and remained limp as Dib pushed himself into a seated position, his PAK iron-hot even through Dib’s shirt.</p>
<p>Dib – acting as a seatback for Zim’s unresponsive body – jostled Zim’s shoulders to rouse him and whispered harshly in his antenna as Esh-El strode forward. “Zim, you fucking idiot, snap out of it…”</p>
<p>Zim jolted a little, groaned, and shook his head. Dib pushed him slightly forward, unable to withstand the incredible heat radiating from Zim’s back as his PAK limbs folded back inside.</p>
<p>“The SIR unit isn’t worthless,” El said to his sibling-head. “At the very least, it can be scrapped. Lots of rare material to be harvested from bots, even defective ones. We can’t simply give it away. That wouldn’t be fair.”</p>
<p>The whip-like appendage that had struck Zim swished again, and Dib realized it was Esh-El’s tail. It twitched across the floor as Esh-El argued with themselves about GIR’s potential value a few feet away. Dib took the opportunity to bring Zim back to reality.</p>
<p>“I don’t think we’re winning this one,” Dib said quietly. “Let’s take the data card and get out of here. We can figure out next steps when we aren’t surrounded by armed guards.”</p>
<p>Zim’s head lolled back against Dib’s shoulder. The storm that had been raging in his eyes had abated, but Dib couldn’t immediately interpret the new emotion in them. He followed Zim’s eyes up, toward the massive cube now towering above them. Inside it, GIR floated tranquilly, his eyes dim, mouth slack. In the midst of the chaos, he’d apparently powered down. Seeing him so still and silent made Dib’s stomach clench.</p>
<p>“I’m not leaving him here,” Zim stated softly.</p>
<p>“We don’t have much of a choice,” Dib said as he checked in on Esh-El again.</p>
<p>Their heads continued to bicker.</p>
<p>“I say we scrap it now, then. Display the parts instead of the whole. Make it more attractive to any last-minute competitors.”</p>
<p>“Yes, Esh, I suppose we could do that…”</p>
<p>Zim shuddered, and Dib felt his quick, hot breath against his ear. His PAK pressed against Dib’s body again, and Dib wondered how it wasn’t burning Zim’s skin. Unless, of course, it <em>was </em>burning him.</p>
<p>Dib started to stand, guiding Zim to his feet as he did, though the Irken was about as cooperative as a sack of potatoes. Zim craned his neck as Dib moved him, still completely focused on GIR’s silhouette. Belatedly, he seemed to realize what Dib was doing.</p>
<p>“No… release me,” Zim muttered, feebly pushing at the hands holding him up by the ribs. He panted between his words. “I’m not… leaving… without my GIR!”</p>
<p>“Then again, it’s easier to advertise SIR materials when they’re assembled in a recognizable fashion. I say we leave it in one piece,” said El.</p>
<p>Dib felt Zim’s body relax, but he continued to pant rapidly, verging on hyperventilation. Zim had never been good with heat, which was probably why his PAK was now a furnace as it fought to regulate his temperature. They needed to get the fuck out of here and find a cool place where they could collect themselves and come up with a battle plan. First, though, they’d have to talk their way out of this without Zim pulling out his lasers again or literally combusting.</p>
<p>“We’ll take the data card,” Dib announced. “Just leave the SIR alone.”</p>
<p>Both heads turned to face him. Unsure of which pair of eyes to make contact with, Dib switched between the two and tried his best to look resolute and unshaken.</p>
<p>“Ah, so you <em>are </em>joining the Rally.” Esh nodded toward Zim. “He’s not going to rip our arm off when we hand the card to you, right?”</p>
<p>Zim didn’t react to her. His attention was still drawn over Dib’s shoulder, up toward his unconscious robot. The flat, vacant look in his eyes made Dib’s skin crawl.</p>
<p>How sickeningly familiar this all felt… Once again, their little family was split apart, with their only hope of reunion lying at the end of another arbitrary competition. It seemed to Dib that the universe was toying with them, tying their fates to the outcomes of cruel games masterminded by strangers who profited from their suffering. The thought flushed him with anger.</p>
<p>“No. He won’t,” Dib said, jaw tight.</p>
<p>Esh-El stepped closer, their taloned, shoeless feet clicking on the smooth floor. They presented the card to Dib, who snatched it out of their hand without breaking eye contact with Esh. The ridges of her brows lifted, amused.</p>
<p>“You really want that thing back in one piece, don’t you?” she asked, her candle-fire eyes piercing into Dib’s.</p>
<p>“We’ll keep it whole for you,” said El. As sincere as he sounded, Dib couldn’t let himself relax. “We look forward to seeing you at the starting line.”</p>
<p>“Best of luck, racers,” Esh said, her strange, glowing tongue flickering out once more.</p>
<p>In response to a silent order, the ring of guards stepped back to allow Esh-El to pass. The guards didn’t follow the Director out of the pyramid, nor did they make any move toward Dib and Zim. Still, the message was clear enough.</p>
<p>“They’re waiting on us. We need to go,” Dib whispered.</p>
<p>Zim shook his head. Despite the glow of the cube, his eyes were dull.</p>
<p>“We’re going to get him back, but we can’t do it from here. Not like this. Do you understand?”</p>
<p>No response.</p>
<p>Dib chewed his lip as the guards edged forward again, their patience waning. “The best way to protect GIR is for us to leave and come up with a strategy. We’re not abandoning him. I need you to trust me on this.”</p>
<p>Finally, Zim’s eyes shifted toward Dib’s face. Zim nodded, a motion so subtle that Dib almost couldn’t see it through his heavy breathing.</p>
<p>To Dib’s relief, Zim allowed himself to be guided out of the crystal structure without causing a scene. Dib held his hand, towing him along as if he were a child. Zim’s unusually docile behavior disquieted Dib, but at least he wasn’t drawing unwanted attention from the guards following them out.</p>
<p>Dib shaded his eyes with his free hand as they returned to the full sunlight of the square. He checked around for signs of Esh-El and, finding none, headed toward a shaded gap between two low, blocky buildings. Blessedly, the alleyway was empty, and the sturdy walls blocked some of the discordant noises of the marketplace. It was as good a spot as any to cool down before working on next steps.</p>
<p>Dib let go of Zim’s hand, slung the bag off of his shoulders, and set it against the wall. Zim wavered on his feet a little and squinted skeptically at him.</p>
<p>“We can’t… stay here,” Zim said, still struggling to get more than a couple words out with each breath. “We… have work to do.”</p>
<p>“Zim. Sit.”</p>
<p>To his credit, Zim sank down next to the bag with only a small hiss of displeasure. “I’m just… a little hot.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, dumbass, I noticed. You’re overheating and freaking me out!” Dib hadn’t meant to blurt that last bit, and half expected it would spark an argument.</p>
<p>Which was why it surprised Dib when Zim muttered a tiny, grumbly little “sorry.”</p>
<p>“Did you just apologize?”</p>
<p>Zim leered at him. “I will take a break. So my PAK can adjust,” he said, his wind already returning to him. “It’s harder for it to process heat now. And then… in there, with GIR…”</p>
<p>Zim’s eyes dulled again and seemed to stare through Dib. Dib shifted nervously on his feet. “We’ll rescue him. I promise. Here… Why don’t you give me the cred chip, and I’ll find us something cold to drink? I saw a stand selling something slushie-adjacent pretty close by.”</p>
<p>“Sure,” said Zim, absently. He reached over his shoulder and rifled through his PAK until he found the cred chip, which he handed to Dib.</p>
<p>“Thanks. Just sit tight and rest, OK? I’ll be right back.” Dib started down the alleyway, but then paused as another thought occurred to him. “Zim?”</p>
<p>Zim had already shifted down a little, reclining against the bag. “Hm?”</p>
<p>“Thanks for being honest about the PAK stuff. I know it’s not your favorite thing to talk about, but I’m relieved that you’re being mindful of it.”</p>
<p>Zim’s antennae flicked and a weird, sickly smile pulled at his mouth. “Uh, yeah. Of course.”</p>
<p>Dib frowned. “You gonna be alright?”</p>
<p>“I’ll be fine.”</p>
<p>“OK.” Dib took a few steps toward the square.</p>
<p>“Wait! Dib-stink!”</p>
<p>Dib turned back. “Yeah?”</p>
<p>“I want purple.”</p>
<p>“You got it.”</p>
<p>*****</p>
<p>Dib was pretty sure these slushie-things were no different than the ones from the convenience store hubs they sometimes stopped at, but Zim still insisted on testing Dib’s with his scanner before he let him taste it. Once he decided it was clear, he passed it back to Dib, who took a long draught of it. The sweet, icy drink soothed his hot throat and sent a delicious chill through his body. It was no “Chocolate-Bubblegum” Suck Munkey, but it still hit the spot.</p>
<p>Zim luxuriated in his drink as well, his eyes closing in ecstasy and his antennae going briefly limp. The few minutes of shaded rest had done him worlds of good, Dib noted. He sat up straighter, and his skin looked less sallow.</p>
<p>At some point during their travels, Zim had explained to Dib that Irkens were artificial endotherms. They couldn’t produce their own heat by natural means, but with the assistance of their PAKs, they could adapt to a wider variety of climates. However, PAKs were much more efficient at generating heat than they were at cooling their hosts down.</p>
<p>“You’re staring. Is something wrong with your drink?” Zim asked.</p>
<p>“Huh? No, everything’s good,” Dib said. “I just… You’re looking better now. I forgot how susceptible Irkens are to hot weather. I got a little worried.”</p>
<p>“Enough with the worrying. Give me the data card,” Zim said. He reached out expectantly as he loudly sucked his slushie.</p>
<p>Dib handed him the card and Zim connected it to his tablet. He narrowed his eyes in concentration as he read the screen, occasionally nodding or muttering affirmations to himself between pulls of his beverage.</p>
<p>“You gonna share with the class?” Dib prompted.</p>
<p>“It won’t take much to modify our ship to meet Drifter standards. Mainly, we need to alter its flight capabilities so it stays low to the ground. Additionally, we’ll have to take the weapons offline.”</p>
<p>“At least that means this isn’t going to be some kind of battle royale,” Dib said.</p>
<p>Zim nodded. “There aren’t many rules listed, but yes, violence does seem to be discouraged. Disappointing.”</p>
<p>“Disappointing?”</p>
<p>“If we could blow up our competitors, we’d stand a better chance of winning,” Zim said.</p>
<p>Dib stirred his slushie. “Yeah, I guess you have a point. We kind of excel at destroying things, and I doubt our ship is going to be much competition on its own. And we still have that thruster to repair…”</p>
<p>Zim’s brows furrowed. “Oh. Right. The thruster.”</p>
<p>“Do we have enough supplies to fix it?” Dib asked.</p>
<p>“It shouldn’t be an issue,” Zim said, but his frown deepened.</p>
<p>As Zim continued reading his screen, Dib mulled over their options. Even if they fixed and modified the ship in time for the race, it wouldn’t stand a chance against the other racers. If the goods in that prize cube were as valuable as they seemed, then the field would be stacked with serious competitors piloting ships that were actually designed for a regatta like this.</p>
<p>“You know, Zim… Maybe we don’t even have to race,” Dib said. “I don’t think we can break into that cube without risking some major repercussions, but maybe we can negotiate with whoever wins it. I mean, all we’re really after is GIR… Oh shit. And the LSI-Ring. I was so distracted with the GIR situation that I didn’t really look…”</p>
<p>“There were four PAKs in the cube. They looked complete, as far as I could tell,” Zim said, still scrolling.</p>
<p>Dib sighed in relief and tried not to consider the implications. “Oh. OK, good. Anyway, we might not be able to trade for GIR and the PAKs while we’re on Currus, but maybe the winner will be open to something different. We could arrange a meeting place somewhere off-world and neutral. If we make it clear we’re only-”</p>
<p>Zim abruptly choked on his slushie, spraying purple juice directly into Dib’s face.</p>
<p>“AH! Zim, what the fuck?!”</p>
<p>As Dib lifted the corner of his sweat-dampened shirt to try to clean himself up, Zim leaped to his feet and pointed furiously at his tablet screen.</p>
<p>“That wretched, hogulus-stinking, two-headed ooze-beast!” Zim exclaimed. “They’re in the race, too!”</p>
<p>“What? Let me see,” Dib said.</p>
<p>Zim thrust the tablet into his hands and began to pace as Dib read through the data card’s registry. At the top of the list, an image of Esh-El’s faces stared back at him.</p>
<p>“They’re competing in their own race…” Dib said, scanning through their registration details. “They talked such a big game about ‘fairness’ and whatever, but they’re competing for their own fucking prize.”</p>
<p>Zim clenched his fists, vibrating with renewed wrath. “And if they <em>win</em> that prize, there’s not a grub’s chance on Sylvestra they’ll be willing to trade with us.”</p>
<p>“Definitely not,” Dib agreed. “Considering the rest of their tech, and the fact that they’re in charge of this whole thing, their Drifter has to be top-of-the-line. This is bullshit! What are we supposed to do?”</p>
<p>A wild, toothy grin spread across Zim’s face, and Dib suddenly recalled his days as a skoolchild facing off against Earth’s greatest threat: an alien menace who would stop at nothing in the name of his mission.</p>
<p>“We do what we have to do,” Zim said, eyes ablaze. “We win the race by any means necessary.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dib didn’t remember falling asleep. The last task he recalled completing was reprogramming the ship's navigational system so that it would better align with Currus's magnetic fields. The outdated software was designed with interplanetary travel in mind, not terrestrial navigation.</p>
<p>Honestly, they could have made do without that adjustment. It would be useful, sure, but it felt like small potatoes in the grand scheme of things. The simple, terrible truth was that their junkheap of a ship was not built for a race like this. Even as Dib and Zim rearranged the thrusters, locked the altitude system, and dumped what ballast they could, Dib couldn’t escape the thought that they were planning a picnic in Pompeii. They could prep all they wanted, but it wouldn’t stop the inevitable eruption.</p>
<p>No. Those thoughts weren’t helpful… Dib made an effort to sweep them to the back of his mind. He’d finished up his reprogramming, then walked out into the cool of the night to help Zim repair a wiring issue with the exterior lighting. After that, the memories turned hazy. He’d been detangling wires by the light of the open hatch and passing them to Zim to install, and he’d started nodding, drifting into sleep’s embrace and then jerking awake again, only to pass out again seconds later.</p>
<p>That’s what must have happened. Maybe Zim was too preoccupied with the ship to notice that Dib had fallen asleep on the job. As Dib slowly returned to his senses and sat up from where he’d slumped against the cabin wall, he discovered that his coat had been removed from storage and draped across his body like a blanket.</p>
<p>For a fraction of a second, a peculiar warmth fluttered within Dib’s chest. It was immediately replaced by annoyance.</p>
<p>Dib threw the coat off of himself and staggered out into the gray-blue predawn light. He marched to the nose of the patchwork ship, which Zim perched atop of, tweaking something in the engine compartment from above.</p>
<p>Hearing Dib approach, Zim paused his task and grinned down at him. “There you are! I was just about to wake you.”</p>
<p>“How long was I out?” Dib asked.</p>
<p>“Not long,” said Zim as he reached back into the engine.</p>
<p>“Long enough that’s it’s almost morning,” Dib said, throwing his hand out toward the horizon, where the glow of the rising sun had just begun to creep into the sky. “I don’t know how long the light cycles are on Currus, but I’m assuming I was down for at least a couple hours. We don’t have that kind of time to waste.”</p>
<p>Zim straightened up again, looking stern. “It wasn’t a waste of time. Your goopy human brain requires sleep to function properly.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I know, but in case you’ve forgotten, you <em>also </em>need sleep now,” Dib said.</p>
<p>“I haven’t forgotten.”</p>
<p>Even in the thin light, the dark bags under Zim’s eyes stood out against his green skin. Dib swallowed the accusation that had been on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to call Zim out for not taking his PAK situation seriously again, but what right did he have to do that? Hadn’t Zim been honest with him back on Dendroba? And then in the marketplace as he overheated? Zim was finally being truthful with him, and now Dib was repaying him with anger and skepticism.</p>
<p>“Right… I know. I’m sorry,” Dib mumbled, hoping that the dimness of the morning would hide the shame in his face. “Do you have time to nap before we need to be at the starting line?”</p>
<p>Zim procured his tablet from his PAK and checked the screen. “No, not really. The circumstances aren’t ideal, but we’ll both have time to rest tonight. The first leg of the race should conclude before dusk.”</p>
<p>Dib nodded, recalling the sparse racing rules they’d found on the data card. Each segment of the race was only meant to last the day. The competitors were expected to reach their destination by nightfall, allowing Drifters to refuel and species with circadian rhythms to rest before the next start, which would be at dawn. Any participants not at the starting line by then would be disqualified. Other causes for disqualification included assaulting other competitors with shipboard weapons, exceeding the equivalent of 50 feet in altitude, and flying outside of the course’s parameters.</p>
<p>Keeping the flight path low and within the race’s borders was easy enough now that they’d locked their altitude and improved the navigation system. As for the weapons, they’d removed the singular laser turret near the bow. Honestly, for all Zim’s talk of winning by any means necessary, all the work they’d done on the ship so far was above board.</p>
<p>All the work that Dib had witnessed or participated in, anyway.</p>
<p>“So, uh, need a hand?” Dib asked, pointing to the open engine compartment.</p>
<p>“I was just finishing up with the speakers,” Zim said.</p>
<p>Dib cocked his head. “And there are speakers in the engine compartment for what reason, exactly?”</p>
<p>Zim’s lips curled in villainous delight as he closed the panel. “Oh, you’ll see. No time to go into it now, though. We still need to select a name for our registration.”</p>
<p>“OK, you’re not off the hook on the speakers thing, but I thought we registered last night,” Dib said.</p>
<p>“We did, but we didn’t set a name for our Drifter,” Zim said, hopping down from the nose. “It’s an optional detail. Pointless and sentimental if you ask me, but I thought, I don’t know… Perhaps you’d want to name it anyway.”</p>
<p>Dib accepted the tablet Zim placed in his hands. “You’re letting me name our ship?”</p>
<p>“Is that not what I said?” Zim huffed. “Name it or don’t. It doesn’t matter to me.”</p>
<p>Dib grinned deviously. “In that case, I’m calling it ‘Dib Is Always Right.’”</p>
<p>Zim’s feelers jumped in indignation. “What? You can’t call it that!”</p>
<p>“I thought it didn’t matter to you,” Dib teased.</p>
<p>“It <em>doesn’t </em>matter to me. I just refuse to pilot a ship named after such an egregious untruth. That’s all,” Zim said with a haughty jut of his chin. “Besides, naming a vehicle after yourself is tacky.”</p>
<p>“Fine,” Dib said, feigning defeat. “What if I named it after you instead?”</p>
<p>Zim eyed Dib with wary interest. “… I’m listening.”</p>
<p>“Let’s see, how about: ‘Zim… Is… Stinky,’” Dib said, pretending to type the words into the tablet as he spoke them.</p>
<p>Zim gasped in offense and reached for the tablet, which Dib easily hoisted out of range. “LIES! It is <em>YOU </em>who is the stink-beast!”</p>
<p>“‘Nasty…. Smelly… Spacebug,’” Dib fake-typed, holding the tablet above his head to keep it away from Zim as the Irken swiped for it again. “Ooo, here’s a good one! ‘Zim… Eats… Packing… Peanuts.’”</p>
<p>“Give it back! I’m revoking your naming rights!” Zim exclaimed as he leaped onto Dib, knocking him off his feet.</p>
<p>They tumbled into the dirt together, Zim scrambling for the tablet while Dib swung it around in a clumsy game of keep-away. Eventually, Zim wrestled Dib onto his back, straddling his stomach and using one claw to pin his shoulder while the other snapped the tablet out of Dib’s hand.</p>
<p>Zim waved his prize triumphantly in the air. “HA! Victory for Zim!”</p>
<p>“Not so fast, frog-face!”</p>
<p>Dib’s free arm shot up to grab Zim’s wrist, which he pulled down in an attempt to dislodge the tablet (he’d seen Zim hurl the thing against a wall more than once – a short fall to the sandy ground wouldn’t hurt it). Instead of dropping the tablet, however, Zim lost his balance and toppled forward onto Dib’s chest. He caught himself before their foreheads could smack together, his hands on either side of Dib’s head, their faces barely an inch apart. Zim’s eyes – as pink and bright as pomegranate seeds – filled the whole of Dib’s vision.</p>
<p>Dib’s breath caught in his throat.</p>
<p>An infinite second clicked by.</p>
<p>Zim jumped off of Dib as if he’d been scalded, his tablet still in his hand. He swatted the dirt from his knees before he inspected the device, making sure none of the names Dib had suggested had actually been typed in.</p>
<p>“We don’t have time for this. We need to complete our final preparations for the race,” he stated, his back to Dib.</p>
<p>“I know, I know.” Dib pushed himself up on his elbows and tried to ignore his inexplicably racing heart. “I still want to name the ship, though. No goofing around this time.”</p>
<p>Zim glanced at him, assessing his sincerity. “Very well. What do you want to call it?”</p>
<p>“How about: ‘Mothman’s Rev-’”</p>
<p>“No cryptids,” Zim interrupted.</p>
<p>Dib groaned as he got to his feet. “You’re such a killjoy. Let me think for a sec…”</p>
<p>Dib stepped back so he could review the full length of the ship. For something cobbled together from scraps and broken dreams, it had an odd charm to it. There was a friendliness to its rounded shape, and the combination of its small fins with its large, bubble-like thrusters almost made it cute, despite the welding scars that striped its hull. The thing was a deathtrap, but it was <em>their </em>deathtrap.</p>
<p>“Doom Buggy,” Dib said.</p>
<p>Zim squinted at him. “If that is the name of another monster, I swear on the Tallest, I’ll break this tablet over your giant head.”</p>
<p>“Calm down. It’s a pun on ‘dune buggy,’” Dib explained. “But I guess it could be a monster name, too. Actually, <em>you’re </em>kind of a doom bug.”</p>
<p>Zim’s face scrunched in confusion. “What?”</p>
<p>“Like, you’re my little doom buggy,” Dib said in an obnoxiously cutesy voice, fully aware he was inviting another outburst.</p>
<p>But no such outburst came. Instead, Zim clicked his tongue and typed something into the tablet. “Ridiculous. That’s its name now. I hope you’re happy.”</p>
<p>“Seriously?”</p>
<p>“Seriously,” Zim said, tucking the device back into his PAK. He motioned for Dib to follow him back inside the newly-named Doom Buggy. “Now, let’s go. We need to top off our fuel before the start.”</p>
<p>Dib entered the hatch after Zim and closed it behind them. “By the way, don’t think that I’ve forgotten the whole speaker situation. I know we have to get creative if we want a shot at winning, but whatever you did up there isn’t going to get us disqualified, is it?”</p>
<p>Zim shimmied around the corner of the pilot’s bench. “Not at all. It’s not technically a weapon, and even if it was, we-”</p>
<p>Something squeaked as Zim sat on the bench, disrupting his explanation. He dug into the seat corner and pulled out a mangled rubber piggy. For several long seconds, Zim simply stared at the old toy in his hands, his mouth a firm line, brows drawn tight. His thumb passed over the piggy’s gnawed ear, tracing familiar ridges with a feather-light touch.</p>
<p>Dib watched him in silence from behind the seat. His understanding of GIR had gone through several evolutions over the years. As a kid, he knew GIR as Zim’s robotic minion (and possibly pet? The doggy suit – while not convincing – muddied the matter). He was at once an evil henchman and a walking doomsday device, and initially, Dib considered him as great a threat as Zim himself. It didn’t take long, however, for him to realize that GIR’s main interests involved TV, junk food, and unintentionally terrorizing the local wildlife. At some point, Dib developed an almost chummy relationship with the weird little bot. He started to see GIR as Zim’s mostly innocuous little brother.</p>
<p>But there were more layers to that relationship, layers that Dib was still excavating after all this time. Zim frequently ordered GIR around and condescended to him, but he also bought him souvenirs, and stocked the fridge with GIR’s preferred snacks, and carried him to a cozy resting place when he fell asleep in a jumble of crayons and half-finished drawings. More than once, Dib had caught Zim singing softly to the robot while Dib was supposed to be asleep. Quiet, chirping lullabies, barely audible over the hum of the dark ship.</p>
<p>But casting Zim as GIR’s parent didn’t sit quite right, either. Dib reflected on how GIR rushed to Zim’s aid way back on Sirus Minor, and then again at the Battle Zoo… And even yesterday, now that Dib thought about it. GIR had been so anxious about being separated from Zim. Dib had assumed GIR was nervous about being left alone somewhere new, but that had never been a problem before. Perhaps it wasn’t himself that GIR was worried about. He’d complained over the communicator about Zim getting “out of range,” after all. Out of range of what?</p>
<p>Before he could follow that line of thought any further, Zim loudly cleared his throat and stuffed the piggy into his PAK.</p>
<p>“The speakers aren’t a weapon,” he said flatly as he settled into the pilot’s bench.</p>
<p>Dib squeezed into the seat next to him and decided not to push the matter any further.</p>
<p>Calamus was oddly quiet and calm, even as dawn broke. The Doom Buggy rumbled around the edge of town, hovering a couple meters off the ground and only stinking mildly of melting plastic. But the engines maintained an even purr, and the yoke in Zim’s hand seemed responsive enough. It wouldn’t be the prettiest Drifter in the running, but Dib was more confident in its capabilities than he was the night before.</p>
<p>As they piloted closer to the western edge of the city, where the data card said the starting line would be, they began to notice other vehicles similar to theirs, hovering in from the desert wastes or pulling out of concrete garages. A couple of them occupied pumps at the same fueling station that Dib and Zim now stopped at. Dib surreptitiously watched the other crews as he filled the Doom Buggy’s tank. They worked quickly and quietly, and Dib wondered if they sensed the tension in the air, too.</p>
<p>It was only when they departed the station and turned the corner to the city’s western face that the spell of silence began to break. Spectators chattered from their positions on rooftops and hovering platforms high above. More and more Drifters joined in the slow parade toward the starting line, their engines buzzing at a dozen different frequencies. Far away, the same festive music Dib had heard in the plaza the day before drifted in and out of audible range.</p>
<p>As much as he knew he shouldn’t, Dib relished the thrum of adrenaline through his veins. The stakes were high and the circumstances dire, but he couldn’t resist the romantic appeal. If child-Dib could see him now: entering a circumnavigational race on an alien planet, competing against a host of advanced species, all with their eyes on the same prize… The bit about racing alongside Zim as a copilot/best friend would have been a bit of a shock for his younger self, but the point still stood.</p>
<p>Zim handed him the tablet, and Dib fed him instructions to reach a specified point in the starting grid. He’d expected a broad corridor of bleachers to witness the start of the race, but only a few sets of stands flanked the starting line, which was painted across the dirt, blood red and five feet wide, several dozen feet long. A tall, crystalline pagoda towered over one end of the line, gleaming in the sharp rays of the rising sun.</p>
<p>The Doom Buggy was assigned near the back of the field, but apparently, starting position held little significance. Each Drifter was individually timed – all that mattered was having the lowest average time at the end of the last leg.</p>
<p>A chalk rectangle marked their spot in the second to last row. About 50 such slots existed in the grid, and Dib’s mind boggled at the wild varieties of vehicles which occupied them. He recognized the saturated purples and pinks of Irken vessels, as well as a few angular Vortian designs, but some of the Drifters wouldn’t have clocked as ships in any other context. A couple rows up, a snot-green, gelatinous tube undulated a few feet from the ground, its apparent pilot sitting astride it as if it were a stallion. A little further forward, a black sphere the size of a helicopter throbbed in an eerily heart-like rhythm. When Dib stared at it too long, his head began to ache.</p>
<p>Dib rubbed his eyes to relieve the tension and decided to spy on their closest neighbors instead. As Zim hovered the Doom Buggy into position, Dib leaned forward to check out the Drifter directly to their left. The vessel was distinctly Irken, though it was boxy compared to the usual Armada vessels. The closer Dib looked at the sloppy magenta paintjob, the more convinced he was that the thing was actually a food truck, its menu hastily covered and peeking through the paint.</p>
<p>Good. So they weren’t the only repurposed Drifter in the fleet.</p>
<p>Through the windshield, Dib made out two Irken silhouettes in the food truck’s cockpit. The taller of the two seemed to be reading through a checklist on her tablet while her companion tapped at the control panel. As if feeling Dib’s eyes on them, the Irken working on the panel looked up at Dib, then offered a chipper little wave.</p>
<p>Surprised by the friendly gesture, Dib waved back, only to be startled by a third, even smaller Irken popping out of a hatch on the roof of the food truck. The new Irken fixed Dib with a fierce glare, and Dib had the sense to turn away before he made an unnecessary enemy.</p>
<p>He moved on to the next row-neighbor. Unable to see past where Zim was running through his own checklist in the middle of the pilot’s bench, Dib went for the back hatch instead.</p>
<p>“Hm? What are you doing?” Zim asked, twisting around in his seat at the sound of the hatch unsealing.</p>
<p>“Checking out the competition,” Dib replied. “Can you lower us a little?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“Guess I’ll jump, then.”</p>
<p>“UGH. Don’t do anything stupid,” Zim growled. “Come back with something useful.”</p>
<p>The Doom Buggy dropped down a few feet, nearly costing Dib his balance. It was still a short hop to the ground, but Dib safely dismounted, kicking up a little cloud of dust as he did. Already, the sun had burned the coolness of the night away. At least they’d be protected from the heat inside the Buggy.</p>
<p>At first blush, the ship to the right of the Doom Buggy appeared Vortian – all clean lines and sharp corners. Its dark blue, wedge-shaped hull floated perfectly still and level compared to the slight wobble of Zim and Dib’s Drifter. The top of the ship resembled the deck of a submarine, complete with a low railing around its edge. The Drifter with the three Irkens had a similar platform on top, which instilled a new sense of unease in Dib’s stomach.</p>
<p>But he didn’t have much time to reflect on the feeling. A panel in the ship’s side folded down, forming a narrow ramp with which its Vortian passenger disembarked. The satyr-like alien paid Dib no mind as she exited, her entire attention absorbed by some sort of multitool in her hands. She extended a circular appendage from the end of the device and held it to the side of the ship for a few seconds.</p>
<p>“Can I help you?” she suddenly asked, shooting a prickly look at Dib over her shoulder.</p>
<p>“Just checking our aft thrusters.” Dib rubbed his chin and knocked on the thruster housing. “Yep. Thrusters are… definitely aft.”</p>
<p><em>Idiot. </em>Dib blamed the garbage reply on sleep deprivation and let out a breath of relief as the Vortian shrugged and returned to her work. Her purple coloration and the way her horn-like growths curved down to frame her jaw jumpstarted his memory.</p>
<p>“I think we saw you in the market yesterday,” Dib said, keeping his tone light and conversational in the hopes of getting something helpful out of her. She seemed confident in whatever the hell she was doing, after all.</p>
<p>“Better check on those thrusters again. Make sure they’re still aft,” the Vortian said as she folded up her tool and slid it into a holster on her waist.</p>
<p>Ah. Perhaps humility was the better approach.</p>
<p>“Maybe we got off on the wrong foot… We’re new to this,” Dib said.</p>
<p>“What, to social interaction? Clearly,” said the Vortian.</p>
<p>Dib bit his tongue. Most of the Vortians he’d met in his travels were friendly folks, generally willing to answer Dib’s questions or spend a few minutes chatting. One such Vortian even gave him a crash course on faster-than-light technology at a fueling station once. It was possible that he’d made a few sweeping assumptions about the affability of an entire species.</p>
<p>“I mean that we’re new to Drifter racing,” Dib said. “You seem like an experienced pilot. I was wondering if you had any advice for first time racers?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>Not a surprising answer, but a disappointing one nonetheless. She was their competition, and obviously not interested in a conversation in the first place. Still, it had been worth a shot.</p>
<p>The Vortian climbed the ramp of her ship but paused with her hand on the hatchway. “Actually, I do have some advice for you.”</p>
<p>Something about her creaking, accented voice struck Dib as familiar.</p>
<p>“When the race begins, stay out of the way,” the Vortian said, her beady eyes locking with Dib’s. “You have no hope of winning. If you insist on participating anyway, keep to the back of pack. Not that you’ll have a choice. You’ll be safer back there, and you’ll be further from me. Which is good, because if the two of you come anywhere <em>near</em> me, I will obliterate you. Understood?”</p>
<p>Dib said nothing.</p>
<p>The Vortian turned toward him, her lip twitching up in a snarl. “I <em>said, </em>‘understood?’”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I got it. Thanks for the hot tip,” Dib said flatly.</p>
<p>As the hatch closed behind the Vortian, Dib took the opportunity to flip her off. So much for that, then. But there were plenty of other ships around, and maybe Dib could pick up some useful information just by observing them.</p>
<p>Dib was about to head to the next row when a series of ringing notes cut through the air. They sounded like wind chimes: random, harmonic pitches, somehow louder than the sea of crowd and engine noise, but not unpleasant. Around him, crew members scrambled into their vehicles, cuing Dib to follow suit.</p>
<p>As he hoisted himself into the back of the Doom Buggy, the chimes amplified. From the open hatch, Dib watched a massive crystal spike pass overhead, as light and effortless as a cloud. Its sharp facets threw beams of rainbowed light over the field of competitors, a dazzling display that left spots in Dib’s eyes when he blinked.</p>
<p>“Oh my god,” Dib said, more to himself than to Zim. “That’s the spire from the town square…”</p>
<p>“It has to be that Shelly-creature,” Zim hissed from the cockpit.</p>
<p>Dib leaned over the back of his bench and squinted through the windshield as the ethereal vessel floated to the front of the field, where it paused for a beat, then lowered until it was level with the other Drifters. The stands flanking the starting line exploded with applause and flashed colorful banners.</p>
<p>Dib scoffed. “I don’t get why people are cheering for Esh-El. Doesn’t it seem rigged, having them compete for their own prize like this? Does nobody else see the problem with that?”</p>
<p>“Apparently not.” Zim sneered at a hovering spectator platform as its passengers cheered and fired off confetti canisters.</p>
<p>“Maybe we’re missing something,” Dib said. He reached forward to request Zim’s tablet so he could scan through the data chip again, but a ringing fanfare swept across the grid before he could ask, as resonant as church bells. The Doom Buggy shuddered with the sound.</p>
<p>“Racers, to your Drifters,” a chirpy, computerized voice announced, spurring another swell of applause.</p>
<p>Dib swung around the pilot’s bench, squeezing in next to Zim. “It’s already starting?”</p>
<p>Zim tapped at the globally localized clock in the dashboard. “It’s on schedule. Why are you surprised?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know… I thought there would be more of a… spectacle? Maybe?”</p>
<p>“What, a race around a black market hell-planet isn’t enough of a spectacle for the Dib?”</p>
<p>Dib chuckled at the playful jab. Zim grinned and hummed to himself as he revved their cobbled-together Drifter, his mood seemingly improved by the approach of the race’s start. Dib’s heart hammered in his chest, but for some reason, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Maybe they stood a chance after all. They’d faced wilder odds, hadn’t they?</p>
<p>“All racers, start your engines,” the electronic announcer continued. “Initiating countdown.”</p>
<p>A holographic screen appeared across the front of the field, displaying a grid of numbers in various languages. Dib lifted his TransDibber to process the assorted symbols as they flickered by, counting away approximately one minute’s worth of time.</p>
<p>The noise of the crowd grew louder and louder, and though Dib heard the distant boom and crackle of fireworks, he couldn’t look away from the timer. By now, his heart felt ready to crash through his ribs, and his hands trembled in anticipation.</p>
<p>When the timer hit 30 seconds, Dib no longer heard the crowd at all. It was as though he’d fallen into deep, deep water, all sounds muffled, barely discernible over the rush of blood through his ears. He felt as though he were floating, no longer touching the seat, not entirely present in his own body. A reflex drew his hand to Zim’s leg, a place to tether himself, an anchor.</p>
<p>At 10 seconds, Dib realized what he’d done. But he didn’t move his hand from Zim’s knee, nor did Zim shirk his touch.</p>
<p>Five seconds: the briefest moment of eye contact between the co-pilots, and a surge of energy up Dib’s spine.</p>
<p>Three, and Dib swore he was a ghost, watching the timer from beyond the confines of the Doom Buggy.</p>
<p>One.</p>
<p>A thousand things happened at once. Distantly, Dib thought he heard the sound of a cannon, but the sudden thunder of accelerating engines drowned it. The Doom Buggy lurched forward and to the left, aiming for an opening between the rows ahead and knocking Dib back against the bench. As quickly as they took off, Zim pulled the yoke to the right again, weaving the Buggy around the smoking husk of a ship that had apparently combusted upon the signal.</p>
<p>Dib could hardly see the shadows of the other Drifters through the haze of kicked-up dust, but Zim reacted effortlessly. The Doom Buggy danced between the silhouettes, and even as Dib flinched at the near misses, he found himself starting to laugh.</p>
<p>And he wasn’t alone, either. Zim’s cackle overpowered the rumble of dozens of ships, manic and vibrant, ridiculous and wonderful.</p>
<p>The air ahead of them started to clear as they broached the front of the pack. Dib twisted in his seat to watch the stands flash by in a blur of color.</p>
<p>“Holy shit,” he said as they overtook the undulating worm-like vessel that had started ahead of them. “We’re actually passing people!”</p>
<p>“Don’t act so surprised!” Zim shot back.</p>
<p>Even as the city vanished into the dust clouds behind them, Dib counted more floating platforms waiting ahead, hovering above the sandy wastes. Among them, tiny camera drones zipped back and forth, occasionally diving down into the action for a closer shot. Just how many people were watching? Dib’s hand moved unconsciously to smooth his cowlick.</p>
<p>“Dib! Look!”</p>
<p>Dib leaned forward to look in the direction that Zim pointed. Ahead of them, Esh-El’s magnificent vessel led the fleet. Dib had assumed the crooked director would have put a greater distance between themselves and the rest of the field by now, but it appeared that the Doom Buggy was actually gaining on them.</p>
<p>Dib’s face split into a crazed grin and he shook Zim’s shoulder. “Not bad for a shitty little scrap-ship! When do I get to drive?”</p>
<p>“Pfft, with your pitiful human reflexes? Dendroban muck-mold has a faster reaction time than you.”</p>
<p>“You can’t expect me to sit up here being useless for the entire race,” Dib argued.</p>
<p>Zim swerved to avoid a dense swirl of dust. “You’re not useless! You’re my, erm, navigator!”</p>
<p>Dib frowned. “You’re not sidelining me that easily, Zim. You can’t pilot this thing alone for three days straight.”</p>
<p>Zim opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by an impact to the Buggy’s flank. The ship veered to the left, and as Zim scrambled to course-correct, Dib pulled up a diagnostic screen on the dash.</p>
<p>“Something punctured the hull,” Dib said, already out of his seat. “I’m checking it out.”</p>
<p>“What?! If something punctured the hull, something could puncture the Dib-worm!”</p>
<p>“Eyes on the road, Speed Racer!” Dib shouted as he hurried to the port side of the ship.</p>
<p>The cabin itself appeared to be intact, but when Dib pressed his face to the porthole to get a view of the outside, he discovered a smoldering mark that looked a little too much like laser damage for comfort.</p>
<p>“I think someone shot us!” he called forward to Zim.</p>
<p>“Impossible! Weapons are forbidden!” Zim shouted back.</p>
<p>Dib stumbled as another blast rocked the Doom Buggy.</p>
<p>“Apparently, not everyone got the memo!” Dib said, grasping at the pilot’s seat to maintain his footing.</p>
<p>A clunky shape approached through the haze of sand to the left of the Buggy, and it didn’t take long for Dib to recognize it as the food truck that had started the race next to them. The tiny, angry Irken that had given him the stink-eye before was still on the vessel’s roof, clinging to a low railing, a mask protecting his face from the flying grit. The hand that wasn’t braced on the rail brandished a mean-looking energy rifle, which the Irken now aimed at the Doom Buggy’s cockpit.</p>
<p>Zim noticed the threat at the same time and pulled to the right as the rifle fired. The shot missed the windshield but struck hard enough just behind it to the throw the turn, causing the Buggy to careen into the path of another Drifter. The other vehicle – a sleek, turquoise little speeder – darted up and over them to avoid a collision, scraping its keel across the Buggy’s roof in the process. Dib grit his teeth at the screech of metal-on-metal.</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you just brake?!” Dib demanded as they leveled out.</p>
<p>“And let them pass us?” Zim spat, incredulous. “We’re fine! Sit down before you brain yourself!”</p>
<p>Dib pointed toward the food truck, which was closing in again on their flank. “They’re still after us! Just drop back until we figure out a way to deal with them!”</p>
<p>“Zim will <em>not</em> be intimidated by some scrawny Irkens in a junk-ship!”</p>
<p>“Zim, you <em>are </em>a scrawny Irken in a junk-ship!” Dib said, his voice cracking in frustration. “Whatever. I’ll handle them.”</p>
<p>Zim risked a look at Dib, eyes widening in alarm and confusion. “What?”</p>
<p>Dib slammed his palm on the hatch release and ran aft, toward the opening door and the weapons compartment.</p>
<p>“DIB!” Zim moved as if to scramble after him, but when the Buggy wobbled, he remembered himself and gripped the yoke again. “We’ll be disqualified!”</p>
<p>Dib pulled a laser pistol from the compartment, along with the mask Zim had constructed for him on Sirus Minor. He pulled the mask over his face and hooked his arm through a handhold by the open door. “That doesn’t seem to be stopping <em>them</em>! We have to defend ourselves somehow, right?”</p>
<p>Zim screamed through his teeth. “FINE. If you fall out the back, pray that you die on impact, because if you don’t, I’ll come back to kill you myself, and it will be MUCH less pleasant!”</p>
<p>Dib laughed. “Promise?”</p>
<p>“You are INSUFFERABLE.”</p>
<p>Dib leaned out of the hatch, pointedly not looking down at the ground as it rushed by. He aimed first for the Irken on top of the vessel, but his throat clenched at the idea of actually shooting the short, red-eyed little monster. Irkens could withstand considerable damage, Dib knew that, but he still felt nauseous when his finger tightened on the trigger.</p>
<p>But the Irken was powering up another shot, and Dib had to make a move. Dib lowered his pistol and shot at a panel with a gas cap built into it instead.</p>
<p>The resulting explosion wasn’t as dramatic as he’d hoped, but it knocked the food truck off course, and Dib smiled a little at the surprised cries of the Irkens aboard it. Their Drifter dropped back as smoke billowed out of its side, but the vessel remained airborne. One hit wouldn’t be enough to ground it; it must have had other fuel reserves to fall back on.</p>
<p>Zim laughed madly from the cockpit. “YES! Again! Shoot them again!”</p>
<p>Dib readjusted his stance and lined his pistol up with the front of the truck. Before he could fire, the ground beneath the truck liquified. Dib blinked and shook his head, assuming the heat had warped his vision, but when his eyes opened again, they beheld and even stranger sight.</p>
<p>The ground lifted in a wide plate beneath the other Drifter, sand pouring away from it like water over a cliff. The Drifter swerved ahead of it, and as the earth swelled higher, it revealed a fleshy, pink expanse.</p>
<p>An enormous, trap-like mouth, rising out of the desert, looming over the tiny food truck and its horrified crew.</p>
<p>The top of the mouth snapped down on the truck and crashed back into the ground, spraying sand several meters into the air as it settled into place.</p>
<p>Dib nearly dropped his weapon along with his jaw.</p>
<p>Zim craned his neck to see over the back of the bench. “What was that sound? Did they crash?”</p>
<p>“Monster mouth,” Dib said, stupidly.</p>
<p>“Eh? What was that? Did they crash or not, Stinky?”</p>
<p>“There was a giant monster mouth in the desert, and it ate a ship, and I didn’t even get a picture!”</p>
<p>“WHAT?!”</p>
<p>Dib resealed the hatch and rushed forward to join Zim. “It’s not just the other racers we need to be worried about. Some sort of creature just <em>ate </em>the ship that was shooting at us. Swallowed it whole.”</p>
<p>“Ha! Serves them right,” Zim said.</p>
<p>Dib pulled his mask down around his neck and pinched the bridge of his nose. “If we’re not careful, we might be next on the menu. You focus on driving… I’ll keep watch for whatever that thing was.”</p>
<p>Zim nodded. “Stay up here, watching forward. I’ll have GIR keep an eye on the stern.”</p>
<p>Zim spoke with such confidence that for a second, Dib almost agreed with him. But then the words clicked in Dib’s head, and despite the heat that not even the Buggy’s air system could tame, a chill lifted the hair on the back of his neck.</p>
<p>“Zim… GIR isn’t…”</p>
<p>Zim’s claws tightened on the yoke. “Force of habit,” he muttered.</p>
<p>“Maybe I should go aft again,” Dib suggested, ignoring the vines of anxiety twisting their way through his gut. “That way, if anyone fires at us from behind, I’ll be able to see them coming. Will you be OK up front?”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Zim snapped, his usual vigor returning. “Now, go. You’re distracting me.”</p>
<p>Dib did as instructed, positioning himself by the rear hatch, where he could keep watch over the sprawl of competitors behind them through the hatch window. Most of the Drifters had spread out considerably, likely to defend themselves from other racers.</p>
<p>Most Drifters. Not all.</p>
<p>Following in the Doom Buggy’s wake was a dark blue Vortian craft with a familiar pilot. The very pilot that had warned Dib in no uncertain terms to stay far away from her. And yet here she was, barreling toward their stern.</p>
<p>To her credit, she seemed surprised to see them, indicating that she hadn’t intended to wind up so close. Her shocked expression swiftly morphed into anger.</p>
<p>“We have a tailgater,” Dib announced to Zim.</p>
<p>“Tail-gator??? Is that what you’re calling the creature?” Zim asked.</p>
<p>“No, I mean we have someone coming up behind us, very close,” Dib clarified. “But she’s faster than us… She’s going to pass.”</p>
<p>On cue, the Vortian ship adjusted its course to overtake them.</p>
<p>“Oh, <em>IS </em>she?” Zim said, his words utterly drenched in sarcasm. “She’d better do it quickly, then.”</p>
<p>Sensing a bad decision on the horizon, Dib turned toward the front of the ship. Ahead of them, the desert sloped up and splintered into a series of canyons and ridges, as if an enormous explosion had occurred beneath the surface, and the landscape was forever frozen in that moment. The leading racers branched away from each other, aiming for the higher, wider paths through the rock maze.</p>
<p>Zim piloted the Doom Buggy up one such ridge, framed by a jagged wall on one side and by a narrow chasm on the other. Dib smirked as the Vortian’s Drifter was forced behind them again, lest she smash into the canyon’s side. Maybe pinning her behind them wasn’t such a bad move after all… Though Dib couldn’t hear her, the Vortian appeared to be screaming at him from her cockpit. Dib waved innocently at her, casually showing off his pistol but making no move to actually threaten her yet.</p>
<p>For a while, everything went perfectly. Zim expertly rode the ridge higher and higher, and the Vortian could do nothing but follow. Dib supposed she could float over the chasm side to pass the Buggy, but it would violate the hover distance rules. She had no choice but to sit in their exhaust, and Dib couldn’t help but flash her a cocky grin every time she drew close enough to see his face through the porthole.</p>
<p>And then the Buggy swerved and clipped the cliff wall.</p>
<p>The impact – though glancing – threw Dib off balance. He caught himself against the hatch door, his heart in his throat.</p>
<p>“Zim?!”</p>
<p>“It’s fine.” Zim’s words melted into each other.</p>
<p>The Buggy bobbed, and Dib launched himself forward, leaping over the back of the bench to land next to Zim. Zim’s head drooped a little, but his eyes remained locked on the path ahead.</p>
<p>“Let me take the wheel,” Dib said, already reaching for it.</p>
<p>Zim perked up a little, the haze clearing from his eyes. “I said that it’s fine!”</p>
<p>“Just for a few minutes!” Dib pressed.</p>
<p>A jolt from the back of the ship threw both of them forward against the dashboard. Dib grabbed the yoke and righted the Buggy as Zim swiveled in his seat to look behind them.</p>
<p>“She rammed us!” Zim exclaimed, offended. “No… She’s trying to push us down so she can go above us!”</p>
<p>Dib couldn’t afford to look away from the twisting route in front of him. “We can’t go any higher, and I don’t think the Buggy can take many more hits like that…”</p>
<p>“Then drop down and let her pass.”</p>
<p>Dib resisted the urge to stare at Zim. “Are you fucking with me?”</p>
<p>“No. Let her get in front, and I’ll show you what I was working on this morning,” Zim said, voice low and ominous.</p>
<p>Dib had nearly forgotten about the speakers in the nose of the ship. Whatever Zim intended to do with them was surely better than being smashed to pieces in a slot canyon, so Dib carefully lowered the Drifter. Within seconds, the Vortian ship was overhead, and Dib briefly considered pulling up and colliding with it from below. Unfortunately, the Buggy would probably fare worse in that clash than the Vortian craft.</p>
<p>The other ship passed them without incident, already putting distance between them as it resumed its previous altitude. Zim reached for a button to the left of the yoke, but paused before pressing it.</p>
<p>“I’d warn you to cover your ears, but… You should be fine,” he said.</p>
<p>“Should be? Zim, wait-”</p>
<p>Dib braced for the worst when Zim pressed the button, but no deafening sound wave followed. Instead, the Buggy began to vibrate so intensely that Dib could barely keep his hands closed around the yoke. Dib fought to control the ship as it drew closer to the canyon wall, but the longer the vibrations lasted, the less he could resist the pull.</p>
<p>“Shut it off!” Dib shouted.</p>
<p>“Just a little longer,” Zim said, sounding strained.</p>
<p>The Vortian ship shuddered and slanted to the left, dangerously close to tipping into the crevice. Zim was right… With a little more time, the ship might be forced into a collision. Dib would just have to be ready to dodge in time to avoid being caught in the fireball.</p>
<p>The edge of the Buggy’s starboard fin scraped the wall again, and Dib’s arms ached with the effort of centering the ship on the path. As his forearms went numb, Dib considered shutting the speakers down himself. He loosened his grip as much as he dared and moved toward the button.</p>
<p>Dib wasn’t sure what happened first, whether the yoke jumped away from his hand and lurched the Buggy into the wall, or whether the front of the Buggy struck the suddenly nosediving Vortian vessel. In whichever case, the compounded collisions spun both Drifters into the side of the canyon. In a tangle of metal, both vessels bounced off the wall and then tumbled down, down into the chasm.</p>
<p>Dib didn’t have time to scream before Zim’s arms were around him, yanking him up and out through the suddenly detached windshield. PAK legs deployed instantly, spidering across the width of the ravine. The Irken and his human cargo dropped down several meters, the metal limbs squealing against the rocks, too splayed to stop the fall. Beneath them, the ships crashed back and forth between the narrowing walls before coming to a booming stop on the canyon floor.</p>
<p>Zim’s steely hold on Dib only tightened as their descent continued. Finally, they slowed and halted about 15 feet above the wreckage. They dangled there for a few moments, choking on the rising smoke, Zim’s arms locked across Dib’s chest and only making it harder to breathe.</p>
<p>Until suddenly the arms loosened, and Dib flailed his hands up to lock behind Zim’s neck. Dib coughed at the noxious air and strained to see up into Zim’s face through tear-blurred eyes.</p>
<p>He couldn’t get much of a read on him before Zim’s auxiliary legs buckled and gave way completely.</p>
<p>Dib clung tightly to Zim as they both clattered down onto the side of their ruined ship and then rolled the rest of the way to the mercifully sandy ground.</p>
<p>Dib managed to pull Zim around in front of him just in time to land on his back. He gagged as the wind was knocked from lungs and lay still, trying to assess whether he’d broken anything. Meanwhile, Zim sprawled across Dib as total deadweight, his eyes closed and PAK legs still jumbled behind him.</p>
<p>When he had enough breath to move again, Dib sat up, shifting Zim’s unconscious form into his lap. His body ached, but as far as he could tell, nothing had been too badly damaged. Dib quickly checked Zim over and, finding no immediately apparent wounds, patted the Irken’s cheek in an effort to wake him.</p>
<p>As Zim’s eyelids fluttered, a sharp voice spoke up from across the rubble.</p>
<p>“You stupid little dirt-monkey...”</p>
<p>The Vortian racer leaned against the hull of her grounded Drifter, and a static pulse traveled over her body. A hologram losing power, Dib realized. She tapped something on her shoulder, and the overlay vanished.</p>
<p>Though it had been years since he’d seen her last, Dib recognized the purple eyes and distinctive cranial implant immediately. He ground his teeth, angry with himself for not identifying the voice sooner.</p>
<p>Tak straightened up and brushed the soot from her uniform. “I told you to stay the <em>fuck</em> out of my way.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Whew, my longest gap in posting, y'all, and I'm sorry. I've been a little disheartened and overwhelmed lately, but everything's going to be alright!  Because hey: with this update, I surpass 100,000 words of IZ fiction this year. I may get frustrated, but hey, at least I'm making something, and enjoying the process of weaving my own story!</p>
<p>NOW, HOW ABOUT THAT FUCKING ART???? @MelodyOfTheVoid (tumblr) made some FANTASTIC art for this chapter, and I'm ETERNALLY LOSING MY MIND ABOUT IT. Please look at it and cry with me. Then go read her stuff and cry even harder.</p>
<p>Also, @CrispySadisticCuddleMuffin (tumblr) is the mastermind behind the Doom Buggy's name! Sorry I named it and then immediately dropped it into a ravine. This is why I can't have nice things.</p>
<p>On that note, there were some Irken cameos in this chapter... whom I also sent to their doom without hesitation. Because I believe that the best way to cameo characters is to murder them in front of the protagonists in an Aesop's Fables-esque attempt to establish additional unseen dangers going forward.</p>
<p>Until next time!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In different, less stressful circumstances, Dib would have slapped himself for missing the obvious clues. As a kid, he’d spent months arguing with Tak’s voice in the form of her ship’s AI, for crying out loud! The memory of her grating accent should have been permanently seared into his brain.</p><p>But realistically, what were the chances that their fates would intertwine again, and on neither of their home planets? The odds were so impossibly small that Dib couldn’t fault himself too much for not making the connection. Once again, Dib wondered if some incomprehensible cosmic force was at work, uniquely dedicated to fucking him over.</p><p>Maybe that’s why Tak hadn’t already blasted a hole through him. The malicious and unknowable entity pulling all the strings wasn’t done torturing its toy just yet.</p><p>Tak gestured limply at Zim, who was still curled in Dib’s lap, slowly coming out of his daze. “What’s wrong with him?”</p><p>“What’s wrong with <em>you</em>?” Dib volleyed back, a fraction of a second too quickly. He nodded toward the leg Tak was favoring.</p><p>Tak’s eyes narrowed into venomous slits, but she seemed to respect the touché. She turned away from Dib and limped back toward the smoldering hull of her Drifter.</p><p>While Tak assessed the state of the vehicle, Dib turned his attention to Zim, keeping a weather eye on the other Irken as he spoke in a low voice.</p><p>“You OK?”</p><p>Zim’s eyelids blinked out of sync as he stared up at Dib’s face. “Who’s driving?”</p><p>“Neither of us, because whatever you did with those stupid speakers wrecked both of our ships,” Dib hissed, his concern for Zim momentarily outweighed by his frustration.</p><p>Zim’s antennae thwacked Dib in the face as they sprang to attention. “What?!”</p><p>“Shh!” Dib placed a hand over Zim’s mouth and checked on Tak. If she’d heard the exclamation, she wasn’t responding to it. “OK, so there’s been a development, and I need you to be chill about- HEY! Did you just lick me?”</p><p>Dib retracted his hand and wiped the alien drool onto his pants, grimacing in disgust. Zim snickered and pushed himself upright, but Dib held him back from attempting to stand.</p><p>“Take it slow,” Dib advised. The last thing they needed was Tak taking advantage of this moment of vulnerability. She seemed preoccupied enough, but she’d already seen Zim unconscious. There was no undoing that, but Dib still wanted to play his cards close to his chest.</p><p>“You’re fussing. I’m fine,” Zim sneered as he wrested his arm away from Dib and got to his feet.</p><p>“Really? Because you didn’t <em>seem</em> fine when you passed out and dropped us into a pile of burning rubble,” Dib said.</p><p>Zim’s lip quivered in the beginnings of a snarl. “I already told you. I need sleep in order for my PAK to recharge. Saving your big, ugly meat-body required significant energy, so perhaps you should be thanking instead of nagging me.”</p><p>For some reason, Zim’s insult stung more than usual, but Dib chose not to respond. He simply stood and brushed himself off, wincing as he discovered the fresh bruises and abrasions on his limbs. Just once, it would be nice to go on an adventure that didn’t completely kick his ass along the way.</p><p>“Eh? Who is <em>that</em>?” Zim pointed at Tak, who continued to review her Drifter as if she were alone in the ravine.</p><p>“That’s what I was trying to warn you about,” Dib said.</p><p>Zim crouched, claws splayed defensively. “Where’s the Vortian?”</p><p>“<em>She’s </em>the Vortian.”</p><p>“But-”</p><p>“Yes, I know she’s an Irken. Don’t you recognize her?” Dib massaged his throbbing temple with the heel of his hand. “I don’t know why I bothered asking that… It’s Tak. Remember Tak? Wanted to steal your mission and turn Earth into a giant snack bowl?”</p><p>Zim blinked at him. It might have been cute if Dib wasn’t resisting the urge to throttle him.</p><p>Dib sighed. “Forget it. Anyway, I’m assuming she still hates us for stopping her scheme back in the day. Unfortunately, I think she’s our only way out of here. The Doom Buggy is trashed, but her ship looks like it might be salvageable.”</p><p>“Are you seriously suggesting we team up with this shipwrecking stranger?” Zim asked.</p><p>“Again, she’s not actually a stranger and it was <em>your </em>bullshit that caused the crash, but that’s hardly the point,” Dib said. “But yes. That’s EXACTLY what I’m suggesting. Believe me, I’m not psyched about it either, but our choices are kinda limited right now.”</p><p>“Would you two quit your squabbling? I can’t hear myself think,” Tak snapped.</p><p>Dib bit his tongue, surprised that Tak had heard them from this distance. But it didn’t matter… They’d have to strike up a conversation at some point. And quickly, if they had any hope of catching up with the other racers.</p><p>Dib cautiously approached Tak, doing his best to keep his demeanor casual. “So, how bad is it?”</p><p>Tak stopped jotting notes in her tablet to glower at him. “What does it matter to you? Worry about your own dumpster fire.”</p><p>“I guess you didn’t catch what we were talking about over there,” Dib commented as Zim joined him. Blessedly, Zim kept his mouth shut as he gave Tak the up-down, but there was no telling how long the silence would last.</p><p>“You’re wasting my time,” Tak said.</p><p>“We have a proposal for you,” said Dib, plunging ahead.</p><p>“I’m flattered, but I’d rather be consumed and then shat out by a Digestor.”</p><p>“Perhaps that can be arranged,” Zim said, ruining Dib’s hopes for diplomacy.</p><p>Tak laughed – a discordant, banshee-like noise, exactly the way Dib remembered it from childhood. “Oh, you’re making threats now, are you? Terrible ones, at that. Now, let me take a stab at your proposal… You’re looking for a lift out of here, is that right?”</p><p>Dib slid his hands into his pockets to hide the nervous fidgeting. “You called it. Your ship is in better shape than ours, but we can scrap ours and use its parts to help repair yours.”</p><p>“And then you’ll ride along with me to the end of the race, and we split the reward?” Tak asked flatly.</p><p>“We don’t even need to split it. We’re just after a few things, and you can take the rest of the prize,” Dib said. Part of him feared he’d said too much, but he sensed the need to sweeten the deal.</p><p>Tak rubbed her chin, as if contemplating the offer. “And what’s to stop me from killing you both, scrapping your ship, and finishing the race alone?”</p><p>Zim took advantage of Dib’s hesitation to step in. “You’ll take us with you because you don’t stand a chance without a crew.”</p><p>“What did you say?” Tak’s eyes narrowed again, and Dib mentally rehearsed the action of drawing his energy pistol. If this came to blows, then by the stars, he’d at least get a shot in before the end.</p><p>“Even in the unlikely event that you could kill us and take our supplies, then what do you think would happen to you the next time someone attacks your ship?” Zim asked.</p><p>Dib couldn’t conceal the smirk of realization that formed on his face as Zim spoke. He joined in, pointing up at the railed platform on top of Tak’s Drifter. “That’s what that’s for, isn’t it? It seems like the other racers all have teams on hand to defend their ships. Flying solo, you’d be a sitting duck.”</p><p>Tak shifted her focus to Dib, and for the first time, Dib registered how much shorter she was than him now that he was an adult. She was still terrifying, sure, but something about the height difference boosted Dib’s confidence.</p><p>“What does that even mean?” Tak asked, her face pinched in genuine confusion.</p><p>“It’s an Earth idiom,” Dib said. “It means you’re fucked.”</p><p>Zim mirrored Dib’s smug expression. “Say you manage to get to the front of the fleet. Now you’re completely exposed, with no one to defend you from incoming attacks. You’ll be shot down faster than a loogarp-beast swallows its own young.”</p><p>Tak’s hands clenched around her tablet, which audibly creaked under the pressure. They had her cornered. All she needed was one more little push.</p><p>“The longer we debate this, the further behind we fall.” Dib made a show of checking the time on his TransDibber, noting the way in which Tak’s eyes tracked him.</p><p>“I think you value yourselves too highly,” Tak said through her teeth. “I shouldn’t have to explain why I don’t need the help of a visually-impaired ape-creature from an inferior, planet-bound species. As for you, Zim…”</p><p>“You know me?” Zim schooled his mildly shocked expression back into a cocksure grin. “Of <em>course</em> you know Zim! What am I even saying?”</p><p>Tak proceeded undeterred. “You’re a defective with an obviously damaged PAK. Killing you might be considered merciful.”</p><p>Zim took a step back and raised an arm as if to block a punch. He stammered an incomprehensible series of syllables while Dib tried to come up with a retort.</p><p>“Honestly, the two of you are barely worth my breath. You’re garbage to be disposed of,” Tak concluded.</p><p>Dib set his jaw. “Call us what you want, but we’ve taken you down twice now, right? Which makes the score Garbage: two; Tak: zero.”</p><p>Tak’s antennae flattened back, but Zim interjected before she could speak.</p><p>“The condition of my PAK is none of your business,” he said, his voice calmer than before.</p><p>“It is if it’s going to interfere with the defense of my Drifter,” Tak said. She must have sensed Dib’s spirits lift at that, and quickly added, “Not that I’ve decided to keep you around just yet.”</p><p>“Let us prove ourselves to you, then. We’ll help repair your ship – all to your specifications, of course – and cover you to the finish line of this leg. If we’re not useful to you, then you can dump us there,” Dib suggested.</p><p>Zim bristled. “Dib…”</p><p>Dib held a hand up to Zim, quietly requesting his (notoriously limited) patience. “I know we’re not your first picks for crewmates, but something’s better than nothing, and like I said before, we’re burning time arguing over it. And besides, we’re not even asking to split the prize with you. We only need a few things. If we win, the rest is yours.”</p><p>“I’m guessing the parts you’re after are for his PAK?” Tak asked.</p><p>Dib angled himself to intervene in case Zim decided to escalate things, but he remained unexpectedly subdued.</p><p>“Our top priority is the retrieval of GIR,” Zim stated.</p><p>Tak’s brow quirked up. “Who?”</p><p>“My SIR unit. He was stolen from me and added to reward,” Zim said. Only the slight quiver of his antennae betrayed the emotion hiding beneath the surface of his words.</p><p>Dib held his breath as Tak stared at Zim. For what felt like a full minute, the only sound in the ravine was the fading crackle of the remaining fires. Once more, Dib’s fingers twitched toward his energy pistol.</p><p>“You’ll repair only what I tell you to repair.” Tak spoke so suddenly that both Dib and Zim flinched. “I rebuilt this Drifter from a much worse state than this when I first acquired it. If you follow my instructions <em>exactly</em> and without complaint, we can be airborne within two hours.”</p><p>Zim raised a claw. “What if-”</p><p>“What if nothing. Now, fetch me whatever intact sheet metal you can find. Also, any of your weapons that survived the crash, which should go without saying and yet my exceedingly low expectations of you require me to say it anyway.”</p><p>Dib took Zim by the wrist and led him back toward the Doom Buggy before he could spout something that would change Tak’s mind. Zim tripped along behind him for a few steps before indignation set in, at which point he shook Dib’s hold off and marched ahead of him.</p><p>Dib groaned internally and quickened his pace to match. Zim obviously wasn’t happy with the arrangement that had been settled on, but Dib didn’t have the energy to bicker with him over it. Instead, he wordlessly joined Zim next to a peeling panel on the ship’s smashed hull and braced it up while Zim retrieved a wand-like tool from his PAK and set to cutting the metal free.</p><p>“You’re a shitty negotiator,” Zim said, once they’d harvested a small stack of mostly unbent panels.</p><p>“We’re alive and have a ride out of here. I’d say that counts as successful negotiation,” Dib said as he added another panel to the pile, tossing it down a little harder than intended.</p><p>Zim checked over his shoulder to make sure Tak was out of range. “We could take her.”</p><p>“Are you seriously suggesting we knock her out and steal her Drifter? You were the one who argued that having more crewmembers on the ship would be beneficial to everyone,” Dib said.</p><p>“Yes, but we were doing fine before. Just the two of us. Better than fine, really, until she showed up to spoil everything with her terrible driving.”</p><p>“For fuck’s sake, Zim, that was <em>your </em>fault. I know she got under your skin about your PAK and…” Dib course-corrected. Dropping the D-word now would only fuel the flames. “… And so on, but we don’t have time to be petty about it.”</p><p>“There’s always time to be petty,” Zim said, yanking down a smaller panel and shoving it into Dib’s hands. “But I am <em>not </em>being petty. We can’t trust her. She’s a lying liar. How about this: You cause a diversion, and I’ll sneak up behind her and-”</p><p>“She’d kill you,” Dib said. “She’d kill <em>both </em>of us.”</p><p>Zim stopped burning through the next panel, his expression somewhere between angered and… hurt? Dib wasn’t sure what was roiling behind those liquid eyes, but whatever it was, it was powerful. “I wouldn’t let that happen. I am an Irken Elite. My combat skills are second to none.”</p><p>Dib – despite his frustration – softened his approach. “I’m not trying to knock your abilities, but you’re not exactly in ideal fighting shape at the moment.”</p><p>“Like you know what Zim’s ‘ideal fighting shape’ is.”</p><p>“Oh yeah? When was the last time you looked in a mirror, Zim?” Dib angled the shiny side of the metal panel toward Zim. “Tell me: does this look ideal to you?”</p><p>Zim grimaced at the flash of light from the panel and then blinked at his own reflection. Dib expected him to launch back into a rant, but instead, the sharp angles of Zim’s anger melted from his face as he stared, the argument temporarily forgotten. While Dib held the panel as still as possible, Zim reached one claw toward the dark rings beneath his eyes.</p><p>The cold dread that had been dwelling in Dib’s gut like a parasite for the past few days writhed with new anxiety. “Zim…?”</p><p>Zim dropped his fingers away from his face and tucked both hands behind his back. “If she fucks us over, Dib-stink, it’s <em>your </em>fault.”</p><p>With that, Zim turned his back on Dib and resumed his task of stripping the hull. Apparently, Dib had won the argument, but it hardly felt like a victory.</p><p>For the rest of their task, Zim was silent. He didn’t even mock Dib when he tripped while carrying a box of salvaged food and water to Tak’s ship. What Dib wouldn’t give to hear Zim gripe about the heat or fling an insult his way…</p><p>Dib tsked to himself, disappointed by his own insecurity. This was what he wanted, after all. Zim was taking the agreement with Tak seriously, and that was perfect. Dib distracted himself from his inexplicable nausea by redoubling his repair efforts.</p><p>As Tak had predicted, her Drifter was close to shipshape within a couple hours. The vessel bore scars from its fall and reeked of melted plastic, but when the three reluctant crewmembers powered up its engines, it miraculously lifted from its crater and hovered with the ease of a machine that <em>hadn’t</em> been dashed against a cliff and chucked into a ravine.</p><p>Dib would never voice such an opinion, but he was impressed.</p><p>“Good,” Tak said from the square pilot’s seat in the center of the cockpit. “Now all we have to do is navigate the lowest tiers of the canyons without breaking the altitude rule, catch up to the rest of the fleet, and then place first in the last two legs.”</p><p>Dib genuinely couldn’t decide whether she was being sarcastic or not. He had little time to debate before Zim spoke up.</p><p>“Pssshhh, not a problem. Now, step aside so I can dr-”</p><p>Tak floored it, flinging both Zim and Dib backwards with the momentum. Reflexively, Dib grabbed the back of her seat with one hand and caught Zim in the crook of his opposite arm. Grunting with the effort, he heaved Zim forward so the Irken could catch hold of the seat to steady himself.</p><p>The circumstance was far from perfect, Dib couldn’t deny that. But as the rocky walls blurred by, he allowed himself the smallest sliver of hope.</p><p>They weren’t out of the running just yet, and once they won, he’d no longer have to worry about the exhaustion in Zim’s face, or his fading complexion, or way his body sagged against Dib’s as they stood behind Tak’s chair.</p><p>They had to win. No – they were <em>going </em>to win. And that was all that mattered.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey, darlings. It's been a while. Some very heavy stuff happened. I love you, be kind to each other, and I hope to see you soon!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In order to convince Zim to take the first shift of sleep as Tak piloted, Dib cheated in a game of rock-paper-scissors, if knowing his opponent only ever threw “scissors” could even be called cheating. Still, it felt unsporting to Dib, and he tried not to use the technique very often. Surely, it was only a matter of time before Zim caught on and changed his tactic. Probably.</p><p>Whatever the case, the game had settled the debate, and Zim – grumbling graphic but baseless threats under his breath – stomped off to the back of Tak’s Drifter to make a nest of the scraps of fabric recovered from the Doom Buggy.</p><p>Which left Dib alone with Tak. He stood just behind her seat, lightly holding onto the back of it in case of a rough turn, and weighing whether it was more awkward to strike up a conversation with her or to remain silent.</p><p>As the clay-colored walls of the canyon finally melted back into a flat desert landscape, Tak made the decision for him.</p><p>“So, he’s really sleeping back there, huh?” she said, gassing the Drifter a little now that they were out in the open.</p><p>“Yeah.” Dib leaned forward for a better view of the terrain, hoping that he’d appear casual and that Tak wouldn’t have follow-up questions. To his surprise and relief, several distant dust clouds marked the passage of other racers ahead of them. A few other ships must have been delayed in the canyons, too. Unfortunately, the sun sat low in the sky, and without his navigation system, Dib wasn’t sure how far they were from the finish line for the first leg.</p><p>Suddenly, Tak raised her voice. “Hey! Zim! Your mission was fake and the Tallests always hated you! You’re the worst Irken in the history of the Empire!”</p><p>Dib flinched at her words, but stopped himself from responding to them. Her antennae – sharply-angled and somewhat glossier-looking than Zim’s – lifted, sensing for a reaction from the back of the ship.</p><p>When none came, Tak’s antennae relaxed again. “Huh. You weren’t lying.”</p><p>“Why would I be lying?”</p><p>“To throw me off. To give Zim the chance to sabotage my ship. There are plenty of reasons to lie,” Tak said, glancing over her shoulder at Dib. “Ugh, it’s impossible to have a conversation like this. Here. Sit.”</p><p>Tak reached forward and flicked a bulky switch. The ship shuddered beneath Dib’s feet, and the pilot’s seat drifted to the left to make way for a second seat to emerge from a panel in the floor. As it clicked into place, Dib restrained himself from asking why Tak hadn’t deployed it sooner. He was pretty sure he knew the answer… This Drifter was <em>hers, </em>and she was making a point. The hidden copilot seat surely wasn’t the only ace up her sleeve, and she wanted Dib to know it.</p><p>Dib kept his eye on Tak as he settled into the blocky chair. “Thanks.”</p><p>“It’s not for your sake. It’s so I don’t have to keep straining my neck to talk to you.”</p><p>Dib folded his arms warily. “You want to talk to me about something?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t use the term ‘want,’ per say.”</p><p>Stars, she was almost as impossible as Zim. “Are we having a conversation or not, Tak?”</p><p>Tak shrugged. “I suppose we’re not.”</p><p>Dib laughed dryly. Fine. He could handle a few awkward hours in Tak’s company. He wasn’t exactly eager to talk to <em>her</em>, either. Though he’d wondered for years about what had become of her after the snack bowl incident. Casually wondered. No, <em>strategically </em>wondered. Because she’d proven herself to be a serious threat to the planet back then, and when she left, Dib figured it was only a matter of time before she took another swing at Earth. Knowing Zim, Dib felt it was safe to assume that all Irkens were equally maniacally driven. Relentless space pests, undeterred by repeated defeats.  </p><p>Dib feigned cleaning his glasses with a singed corner of his shirt and cast a glance at Tak. Was it possible she’d gone back to the Empire after her scheme fell through? Dib only knew scraps of her backstory from what he’d pieced together between their interactions and Zim’s less-than-reliable explanations. Zim had fucked her over somehow, that much he caught. Then something about being a janitor? But that sounded like something Zim might make up on his own.</p><p>Whatever the case, things hadn’t ended well for Tak. She’d failed to give her leaders what they wanted, though Dib wasn’t sure they knew of her intentions in the first place. Did she return to them empty-handed? Did she go back to being a janitor (or whatever she was actually doing before her attack)?</p><p>Dib settled his glasses back into place, cringing at the additional grime they’d collected from his “cleaning.” Tak wasn’t wearing her uniform – or <em>any </em>uniform, for that matter. Her clothes looked much like the Vortian civilian outfits Dib had seen on other planets. It was a navy bodysuit, banded with dulled silver loops and patched here and there with mismatched material. No Irken emblems in sight. No SIR unit in sight, either.</p><p>The curiosity gnawed away at Dib’s brain so intensely that he couldn’t be bothered to care about the beautiful tangerine, magenta, and cyan of the alien sunset ahead of them. He had to know what Tak had been doing since their childhood encounter, but he suspected directly approaching her with his questions wouldn’t end well. Maybe he could bait some information out of her instead.</p><p>“I can’t get over how infinitesimally small the odds of running into you like this are,” Dib said as he inspected the array of unfamiliar controls in front of him.</p><p>Tak’s eyes flashed briefly in his direction. “Are you suggesting our meeting was intentional? Don’t flatter yourself.”</p><p>“I just meant that it’s crazy improbable that we’d wind up here together.”</p><p>“Not that improbable,” Tak said. “Considering this is one of the few planets left where one can safely acquire advanced Irken tech.”</p><p>“Which we both need, apparently,” Dib said.</p><p>Tak’s claws tightened around the yoke, but her expression remained flat and focused forward.</p><p>Dib continued. “Also, I wouldn’t call this ‘safe,’ exactly.”</p><p>“Then you don’t know what real danger is like,” Tak said.</p><p>“Oh, I <em>know </em>danger,” Dib retorted.</p><p>The slightest smirk twisted the corner of Tak’s mouth. “Sure you do, ape-thing.”</p><p>Dib opened his mouth to argue but checked himself before he could derail the conversation. “Anyway. This race still feels like a lot to go through just to pick up some rare parts.”</p><p>“It is what it is.”</p><p>Fine. If Dib had to push, then he’d damn well push. “You must really need whatever it is you’re racing for. That’s all I’m saying.”</p><p>“Just because you and your defective companion entered this race out of desperation doesn’t mean we all did. I’m in it for the monies. You can keep your PAK parts, but the rest of the haul is <em>mine,</em>” Tak said.</p><p>“The PAK parts and <em>GIR</em>,” Dib corrected, slightly suspicious that she’d left that bit out. He twisted in his seat, checking out the sparse, angular hull of the Drifter. The design was minimalistic: no divisions within it, except for the corner which constituted the head, and a couple small storage panels. In the center of the cabin, a ladder stretched to the port in the ceiling which allowed access to the exterior platform. There were few places to hide, but even so…</p><p>“Speaking of robots, where’s yours?” Dib asked, straightening in his seat.</p><p>“MiMi is no mere robot.” The iciness of Tak’s tone chased a chill up Dib’s spine. “She is far more advanced than any robot you could conceive of.”</p><p>Dib swallowed, determined to stay the course, regardless of the venom in Tak’s voice. “Was she taken, too?”</p><p>Tak shot a withering glare at Dib. “Of course not, you mindless meat-lump. I would never be so stupid as to bring her to a planet like this, and even if I were, I would never allow her to be captured.”</p><p>“Then where is she?”</p><p>“This conversation is over.”</p><p>Dib’s curiosity overcame him. “Did something happen to her?”</p><p>A PAK limb zinged out from behind Tak, pinning the shoulder of Dib’s shirt to his seat. “I said we’re DONE. One more word, and I’ll-” She cut her sentence before the threat could be completed, her purple eyes breaking away from Dib to stare across the barren plain.</p><p>Dib followed her gaze to a distant plume of dust, reddened by the sinking sun. He wanted to speak, but the proximity of the PAK leg to his jugular gave him pause.</p><p>“What is that?” Tak muttered to herself, leaning forward for a better look. She retracted her PAK leg, and Dib inspected the slits she’d left behind. At least she’d only damaged his clothes, he supposed.</p><p>“Is it not another racer…?” Dib ventured, smoothing down the torn shoulder of his shirt.</p><p>“Fool. It’s coming straight for us,” Tak said.</p><p>Dib filled in the blanks for himself. They were still at the back of the pack… What racer in their right mind would drop back to try to take them out? The mysterious plume had to be caused by something else. Dib’s hand curled around his blaster as he recalled the giant mouth that had erupted from the desert and devoured another Drifter whole.</p><p>“Maybe it’s a dust devil,” Dib said.</p><p>Tak cocked an antenna toward him. “A dust what? Never mind… It looks small. I can evade.”</p><p>She adjusted the Drifter’s path, but the approaching swirl of sand realigned itself to match. Tak altered her trajectory again, this time angling even further off track, and still the clouds stayed their collision course.</p><p>Suddenly, Tak threw the wheel to the side, turning so sharply that Dib had to brace his foot against the dashboard to prevent himself from being flung from his seat. Once again, the approaching shape swerved to stay on target, taking advantage of the Drifter’s loss of momentum to rapidly close the distance.</p><p>It was close enough now that Dib could see the low, circular shadow of whatever was stirring up the sand. “There’s something there.”</p><p>“OBVIOUSLY there’s something there!”</p><p>Before Tak could take another jab at Dib’s intelligence, the shape launched itself up and struck the windshield with a <em>thunk</em>. Dib recoiled from the chitinous tangle of legs and ridged exoskeleton that splayed halfway across the glass. A lamprey-like ring of teeth suctioned onto the windshield and began to ooze a hissing, yellow slime.</p><p>Dib jumped from his seat, pistol in hand. “It’s melting through! I’ll take care of it.”</p><p>“With that little spark-shooter?” Tak erupted in nasally laughter.</p><p>Dib stomped toward the roof hatch ladder, determined not to let her under his skin. “Unless you have a better idea, YES.”</p><p>“There’s a compartment on the starboard side of the cabin. Open it. Quickly.”</p><p>Dib slid open the compartment door and withdrew what he could only assume was a Vortian-made rifle. The black metal of the blocky weapon sat heavy and cold in his hands as he held it in front of himself. Dib had never handled a gun quite like this. He’d created an arsenal of alien-fighting weapons in his time, true, but none were meant to be lethal. Dib had wanted to capture Zim alive, though his reasons for that had evolved over the years.</p><p>This thing, though… This made the little laser Zim had given him look like a novelty keychain.</p><p>“QUICKLY.”</p><p>Dib slung the strap of the gun over his shoulder so the length of it rested across his back. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a harness hanging next to the empty compartment, and as swiftly as possible, he clipped it around his middle. There was no time to fit it properly, but something was better than nothing.</p><p>With a final glance at Zim’s nest – which still contained one former invader, somehow sleeping through the turbulence – Dib hurried up the ladder and through the hatch.</p><p>The force of the wind stole the breath from Dib’s mouth. Keeping his head low, he crawled along the Drifter’s roof until he was close enough to the guard rail around its edge to clip his harness to it. After giving the safety line an experimental tug, he continued forward, hunched against the wind as it roared around him.</p><p>Once he reached the bow, Dib rotated the rifle around himself, grateful for the intuitive fit of its grip and trigger. Below him, the spider-scorpion-nightmare-hybrid remained latched to the windshield. Dib swallowed nervously. Just staying on his feet was difficult enough at this speed, though it felt like Tak had slowed down slightly. He wasn’t sure what kind of kickback his new weapon packed. Plus, he’d have to be extremely careful with the shot. At the wrong angle, he could damage the Drifter.</p><p>Long, rust-colored legs spread further across the front of the ship, reminding Dib that he didn’t have time to indulge his nerves. He could only take the shot and hope whatever form of violent energy the rifle had to offer would be sufficient to pierce the carapace of the parasite.</p><p>Dib took a knee to stabilize himself, aimed the gun toward the section of shell he assumed contained the brain, and squeezed the trigger.</p><p>The gun bucked into his shoulder as it blasted blue plasma into the creature’s back. Dib flinched but held his position as the alien squealed and writhed. Its legs scrabbled for purchase, but the hole left by the plasma must have damaged something important to its motor control, because the limbs couldn’t coordinate fast enough to save the creature from sliding off the front of the ship and crashing to the ground.</p><p>Reflexively, Dib pumped his fist in victory, only to wince as he pulled his bruised shoulder. He let the gun dangle on its strap so he could massage his sore arm for a moment. As he did, he took a quick scan of the horizon.</p><p>“Oh. Fuck.”</p><p>Three more dust clouds tore across the plain, heading straight for the ship. Dib could make more sense of the shapes now. The scorpion-like aliens rolled themselves along like wheels, somehow able to move at incredible speeds, kicking up swirls of dirt as they went. They were predators, preying on ships, but why? Were they hunting the passengers of the ships or the ships themselves? With their acidic saliva, perhaps they were breaking down and digesting the inorganic materials of the Drifters…</p><p>Dib swung the gun forward again, forcing aside his scientific interest in favor of survival. Below him, he could barely catch Tak yelling something. Probably a warning about the other approaching insect-monsters.</p><p>The new attackers sped toward the ship, side-by-side. Dib aimed for the one in the middle, leaning forward and adjusting his grip on the rifle so it wouldn’t knock back into his shoulder as powerfully. He absorbed the recoil better this time, but the ache in his shoulder told him that he could only fire the thing a few more times without losing his accuracy.</p><p>Fortunately, Dib hit his mark. The middle creature uncoiled as it was struck and tumbled to a stop. One of its companions peeled away, apparently no longer interested in chasing the ship, but the other stayed true to its course.</p><p>Dib rolled the tension out of his shoulders and aimed again. He fired too quickly, cursing as the ball of plasma spun wide of its target. By the time he readjusted, the creature had already pounced, hitting the Drifter broadsides. Dib grabbed the railing to catch himself as the ship jolted. Tak shouted again, her words lost to the screaming wind.</p><p>Whatever she had to say, it could wait. Dib stood and edged his way to the side where the monster had attached itself. Hitting this one was going to be tricky… He had to lean the gun over the railing to shoot straight down, making it difficult to steady the shot.</p><p>Mindful not to let the strap float away from him, Dib held the gun over the edge of the ship and gripped it as tightly as he could. When he fired, the rifle jumped in his hands, but not enough to blow the shot. The creature shrieked, released its hold, and spiraled down to the rocky terrain below.</p><p>Dib drew the rifle back, smirking triumphantly. “So long, you ugly xenomorph wannabes!” His smile faded as he rethought the insult. “You know, because you kind of look like face-huggers, except bigger? Ship-huggers?”</p><p>Tak’s voice pierced the air. “Idiot! Left!”</p><p>Dib lifted his head to look, but it was too late. The impact of another of the creatures threw the ship to the side, sending Dib over the railing. He screamed as he fell face-first toward the blur of ground, only for his scream to be cut short by the jerking of the harness around his waist. The safety line stopped his fall, but the momentum knocked him into the hull of ship, dazing him.</p><p>Dib gasped to regain his breath as he bobbed against the side of the Drifter like a balloon held outside of a car window. He spun several times, failing to orientate himself, before he finally managed to twine an arm around the line and plant his feet against the hull. Judging by the weight across his back, he still had the rifle. Good. All he needed to do was climb back to the roof, get to the other side of the Drifter, and blast away one more spider-thing.</p><p>A scuttling sound froze the blood in his veins. Four claw-tipped legs arched over the edge of the Drifter’s roof, dangerously close to where Dib’s line was secured. A many-fanged, circular maw followed soon after, dripping globs of yellow mucus. Dib swung out of the way of the falling acid and scrambled to pull the rifle forward again without losing his position against the ship.</p><p>A string of drool narrowly missed his cheek as he hefted the rifle into place. His sweat-slickened hands slipped over the trigger, and in his moment of hesitance, one of the legs lanced toward him. Dib kicked off from the hull as the leg zinged by. He’d hardly touched down again before another limb followed. In his attempt to dodge to the side, he lost his footing and rotated completely around before finding it once more.</p><p>Another leg positioned itself as a harpoon. Dib pulled the trigger without realigning his shot, his eyes squeezing shut in preparation for his imminent skewering.</p><p>By some miracle, Dib didn’t become a shish kebab.</p><p>He squinted up just in time to see the creature’s carcass plummeting toward him. Dib flattened himself against the metal to evade it, cradling the rifle to his chest as if it were a living thing to protect. The monster whooshed by and exploded into the dirt below.</p><p>For a few seconds, Dib continued to dangle there, breathless and shaking with the aftermath of adrenaline. Then, with half-numb limbs, he hauled himself back to the top of the ship. He scanned the horizon for more monsters before collapsing onto his back to stare up at the star-speckled twilight sky.</p><p>“Did you die?” Tak’s voice carried to him through the open roof hatch.</p><p>“Yeah,” Dib shouted back.</p><p>“Fuck you.”</p><p>Dib chuckled and closed his eyes, waiting until his trembling had subsided enough for him to crawl to the port and back into the ship. Once he did, and he’d made his way to the bottom of the short ladder, his knees gave out. He slumped against the rungs as the hatch sealed overhead.</p><p>“You certainly took your time,” Tak commented from the pilot’s seat, not looking back.</p><p>“A simple ‘thank you’ would be sufficient.”</p><p>“Fine. Thank you.”</p><p>Dib pulled himself upright again. “Huh. Didn’t expect you to actually say it.”</p><p>Tak groaned. “You did the job you said you’d do. Congratulations on accomplishing the bare minimum. That said… You did surprisingly decent work for a squishy, smelly dirt-creature. Take my thanks and don’t push your luck.”</p><p>Dib smiled to himself as he stowed the rifle back in its compartment and removed his harness. The cabin had darkened significantly with the onset of night. His vision wasn’t worth much in the dark, but he still wanted to stay up for a couple more hours so that Zim could rest.</p><p>Speaking of…</p><p>Dib limped to the back of the ship, where Zim had cocooned himself in scraps of blankets and Dib’s ruined clothes. His bed had been tossed around a bit by the altercation with the creatures, but he’d apparently slept through all of that, along with Tak’s yelling. Dib would have found it amusing if he didn’t also find it ominous.</p><p>Ignoring the complaints of his battered body, Dib knelt next to the blankets and watched the slow rise and fall of Zim’s ribs. The Irken seemed even smaller than usual in his sleep, curled up so tightly, his head half-buried in the shredded remains of Dib’s hoodie. Dib carefully rested his hand on Zim’s blanketed shoulder for a moment, resisting the impulse to nudge him awake just to make sure he was alright.</p><p>Zim needed the sleep. Dib, begrudgingly, would give him a little more of that. Is this how Zim felt? Every time Dib slept during their journey through the stars?</p><p>“Hey. I need more eyes up here,” Tak called from the front.</p><p>Right. Dib still had a job to do.</p><p>“I’ll be back,” he whispered to Zim’s lax antennae before he returned to the cockpit.</p><p>Through the windshield, the sun had almost completely vanished below the horizon, leaving behind a purplish haze of dusk. Dib inspected the wound in the glass where the first creature had latched on. Its erosive saliva hadn’t broken all the way through, put that patch of glass was badly warped. Another hit might shatter the whole thing.</p><p>Tak spoke as if reading Dib’s thoughts. “It should hold for now. I treated the glass with my own polymer blend. It’s much more resilient than standard Vortian materials.”</p><p>“Nice.”</p><p>Tak’s antenna flicked and Dib thought her eyes flashed his way for a second. “Yes. It <em>is </em>nice.”</p><p>Dib sank into the copilot’s seat, feeling like one giant, sapient bruise. The left side of his head throbbed from where he’d clunked it against the ship’s hull, and when he felt that part of his scalp with his fingertips, he winced at the tender goose egg that had sprouted there.</p><p>As Dib prodded at his bruises, Tak reached beneath her seat and procured a small white box. She tossed it into Dib’s lap without looking at him.</p><p>“Here.”</p><p>“What’s this?” Dib asked, inspecting the object as if it might detonate in his hands.</p><p>“Med kit.”</p><p>“Oh. Thank you.”</p><p>The silence that settled over the Drifter as the night deepened wasn’t as awkward as it was before. Or perhaps Dib was just too exhausted to care. Still, he grinned as he sorted through the kit for human-safe medicine.</p><p>Maybe this partnership would work out after all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sometimes you just gotta say "FUCK IT" and hit POST.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Waking Zim up took a little more prodding and antenna-tugging than Dib felt entirely comfortable with, but eventually, he got a reaction out of the space bug. The reaction – hissing and burrowing deeper into the makeshift nest – wasn’t ideal, but it <em>was </em>progress. As Dib peeled away scraps of bedding and half-ruined clothes, Zim’s sleep-fogged brain seemed to clear a little, and the hissing transitioned to discontented grumbles and pleas for a few more minutes of rest.</p><p>Dib wanted to give him that rest, but Tak had already chewed him out for nodding off a couple times when he was supposed to be watching her radar screen. Better to stick to the original plan and trade off with Zim before Tak decided the agreement was no longer mutually beneficial.</p><p>Which brought up another concern. Tak had barely tolerated Dib’s presence, and he’d been on his best, most placating behavior. Leaving Zim alone with her felt like starting a bonfire in a room walled with dynamite. It was only a matter of time before a few stray sparks kicked off an earth-shattering explosion.</p><p>But he had little choice. Zim shoved Dib down into the scrapheap of a bed and stomped off toward the front of the Drifter before Dib could give him any “don’t start shit with our new ally” advice. There was a distinct possibility that such advice would only worsen the eventual eruption of tempers, so perhaps it was for the best.</p><p>Still, Dib resolved to stay awake for a bit, in case he needed to jump up and intervene. As he wadded himself up in the nest, he pictured the act of scruffing both Irkens by their PAKs and pulling them away from each other as if they were laser-wielding housecats. He chuckled at the mental image and made the mistake of closing his eyes.</p><p>“YOU’RE TOO SLOW! GO FASTER!”</p><p>Dib crashed into consciousness. He sat up, his head leadened by sleep, his movements uncoordinated and stiff. “Wha…?”</p><p>“Oh, you think I should go faster? You think I should <em>will</em> the ship to go faster than it already is? Here’s a thought, Zim. Perhaps the engines would perform better if we hadn’t had to piece them together after you and your pet mammal shattered my ship in the bottom of a bloody canyon!”</p><p>Dib threw himself to his feet and staggered, noodle-limbed, to the cockpit. He straightened his glasses, smeared as they were by his accidental nap.</p><p>“Wha’s goin’ on?” Dib slurred as he gripped the back of the copilot seat.</p><p>“We’re not going to make it to the starting line is what’s going on,” Zim sneered beneath him.</p><p>Dib squinted out the window at the low sandstone buildings that flashed by in the darkness. “Where are we?”</p><p>“The next checkpoint,” Tak answered. “We just passed the time marker.”</p><p>“So we made it?”</p><p>“Pay attention! I <em>just </em>told you that we’re going to be late to the starting line. If we’re not there by dawn, we’re disqualified.”</p><p>Zim’s suddenly level, serious tone chased the last of the sleep-fog from Dib’s mind. He leaned forward to see the dark gray of the sky. The thick blanket of clouds had the gray glow of early morning light. “Shit… What counts as dawn? How much time do we have? How far are we from the line?”</p><p>“Would you two shut up for a second?” Tak snarled. “We’ll make it, but we won’t have time to recharge.”</p><p>“Do we need to recharge?” Dib asked.</p><p>Tak glanced at an indecipherable array of meters. “Hm. Maybe.”</p><p>“Maybe?”</p><p>“I thought I told you to shut up!”</p><p>“Hey, we’re on the same team now. I have the right to question our strategy,” Dib said.</p><p>Tak smirked nastily. “’Our strategy,’ he says. We stop to charge up, we miss the start, we’re disqualified. With our current power level, we could still feasibly make it to the next leg, but we’ll have to be smart about it. That’s the only strategic option we have. Now stop distracting me.”</p><p>Several blocks ahead of the Drifter, a familiar holographic screen hovered, much like the one at the start of the first leg, staining the low clouds with a blue-green light. Dib held up his TransDibber to read it, but between the distance and the pre-dawn haze, not much was legible.</p><p>As Dib tinkered with the settings in hopes of a better reading, he remembered something. “Wait… Tak, aren’t you supposed to be a Vortian?”</p><p>Tak’s curled antennae bounced up in surprise. For a split second, Dib thought he saw her cheeks flush in either embarrassment or anger before she activated her disguise. “See? Distracting.”</p><p>Before Dib could comment, a yawn forced its way through his jaw. Though Dib tried to stifle it, Zim twisted in his seat to squint up at him.</p><p>“Are you not fully rested?” Zim asked.</p><p>Dib braced himself against the roll of the Drifter as the road doglegged. Honestly, it felt like he hadn’t slept at all, even though he must have been out for a few hours. But considering how fretful and smothering Zim had been over him lately, Dib figured it was best to downplay it. The nonstop action was as exhausting as it was exhilarating. Just two more days of racing, and then maybe he’d get to properly recuperate. Besides, years of obsessive all-nighters and investigative wilderness adventures had prepared him for exactly this scenario.</p><p>Well, perhaps not <em>exactly </em>this scenario, but close enough, Dib reckoned.</p><p>“Just waking up,” Dib said through another yawn. “Did you two play nice while I was sleeping?”</p><p>“You do realize that we’re mere seconds from disqualification, don’t you?” Tak asked. “You’re being awfully flippant.”</p><p>“Insanely close calls are kind of our thing,” Dib explained with a shrug.</p><p>The street broadened, and through the windows of the drab buildings lining the road, Dib caught glimpses of alien spectators. The mood wasn’t as jovial as it had been at the race’s start, and there were no floating stands to be seen. Dib wondered if the town (if it even counted as a town) had been more active yesterday, when the frontrunners had presumably arrived.</p><p>Tak rounded a corner, and suddenly, a new starting field sprawled in front of them. The Drifter braked, nearly chucking Dib over the backrest of the copilot’s seat. As he regained his balance, Dib craned his neck to see the holographic screen above the field. According to his translator, they’d arrived with almost a minute to spare.</p><p>Zim must have noticed, too. “Ha! You see? I told you we’d make it.”</p><p>Tak glowered at him as the Drifter settled into a starting position. “You were screaming at me to defy physics just a moment ago.”</p><p>Dib’s stiff shoulders relaxed a little, even as his Irken companions began to bicker. The countdown for the next start would begin shortly, and the chaos of the previous start was still fresh in his mind. As he took inventory of the neighboring Drifters, however, Dib realized that a significant change had occurred since the beginning of the race. Yesterday, the fleet had consisted of perhaps 50 racers. This morning, only 30 or so ships hovered on the starting grid, and of those, several appeared to have limped into place. The holographic screen illuminated the torn hulls of the nearest vessels and colored the coils of smoke which rose from them with sickly neon greens and blues. Dib recalled yesterday’s massive, ship-devouring subterranean predator and the acid-mouthed scorpion monsters he’d fended off with Tak’s rifle. Between the aggressive wildlife and the unforgiving environment, the competition had been considerably thinned.</p><p>Perhaps they’d been the last to arrive at the checkpoint, but they certainly weren’t in last place.</p><p>A grating electronic voice cut the air. “All racers, start your engines.”</p><p>“Déjà vu,” Dib muttered.</p><p>“Initiating countdown.”</p><p>Seconds ticked away on the screen, and Dib’s heart spun in his chest. He leaned over the seat, angling for a better view of the remaining ships. Hoping against hope, he searched for the telltale gleam of Esh-El’s crystalline ship and cursed when he caught sight of it, several rows ahead, its glassy hull refracting the murky light and somehow transforming into something purer, brighter. Of <em>course </em>those bastards were still in the race. They were probably in the pole position. Assholes. Or asshole…? What was the proper way in which to insult a two-headed entity?</p><p>Dib dug his nails into the seat. Now was not the time to unravel such mysteries. No, the best thing he could do was look ahead. Literally. Even with the thick cloud coverage, there was enough light to make out the track ahead of them. Or, there <em>should </em>have been. For a second, Dib wasn’t sure what he was seeing between the floating ships in the first rows. Pale haze, nothingness…?</p><p>No.</p><p>
  <em>Water. </em>
</p><p>A vast stretch of sea, dark and horizonless.</p><p>“Oh my god.”</p><p>“SHH. I’m trying to concentrate,” Tak said.</p><p>“That’s water. The next leg is over an ocean, isn’t it?”</p><p>“I thought those ugly circles of glass were supposed to help you see better.”</p><p>Zim stood up in the copilot’s seat and for some inexplicable reason shaded his eyes, as if it would improve his sight. “The Dib is correct… They’ve placed the starting line at the edge of an ocean! Idiots. We must notify them of their mistake. Where’s the com button on this thing?”</p><p>Tak swatted his hand away. “We’re in a Drifter, shit-for-brains. We could fly over lava for all I care. It doesn’t matter.”</p><p>“It matters if we run out of fuel,” Dib said.</p><p>“Pure Vortian tech doesn’t use solid fuel. It uses energy.”</p><p>“Great. You can explain the difference to me while we sink in the middle of a fucking ocean,” Dib said.</p><p>“We have enough to get across,” Tak said as she revved the engines.</p><p>“Do we?” Dib eyed the complicated energy-dial that Tak had referenced before. “Look, what if we circle back and recharge after the start?”</p><p>“We can’t afford to lose that kind of time,” Tak said. “We have to be among the first across the finish line of this leg, if not <em>the </em>first, to stand a chance of winning. And that’s assuming we lose another dozen or so ships.”</p><p>Dib watched the countdown clock and tried to keep his voice level. “We could die out there, Tak. I think the detour is worth the risk.”</p><p>“It’s not happening,” Tak said. “You can always jump ship. You still have a few seconds to decide.”</p><p>Zim looked up at Dib, his brow ridges drawn tight, his expression concerned and expectant. “GIR…”</p><p>Dib felt like a sea urchin was stuck in his throat. He didn’t like the undisguised vulnerability in Zim’s eyes, or the way he’d turned the decision-making over to Dib so immediately. “We… Maybe there’s another way to get GIR back, even if we don’t win. Maybe we could steal what we need from the winner.”</p><p>Tak laughed humorlessly. “Participating legally in the race is <em>far </em>safer and more realistic than that, trust me. So what is it? Stay or go? We’re nearly out of time.”</p><p>Dib glanced between the rear hatch and the timer. Trust Tak and her fuel estimate, or ditch her, find a ride back to the finish line, and figure out a way to steal the unstealable?</p><p>Zim’s eyes shimmered, waiting for Dib’s answer.</p><p>“I guess we’re in,” Dib said, but his voice sounded papery.</p><p>Tak’s mouth twitched into a lightning-quick grin. “Terrific. Hang on to your butts.”</p><p>Before Dib could place why that phrase sounded so familiar, the countdown flashed and a cannon boomed. Dib threw his arms around the back of the copilot’s seat, half-aware of Zim’s hand rising to clasp his forearm in place. The Drifter rocketed forward, accelerating so rapidly that it seemed inevitable that they’d smash into the sterns of the ships in the next row.</p><p>At the last possible moment, Tak veered the ship away from the rear engines of the barge-like Drifter ahead of them, diving into a narrow opening between racers. With supernatural ease, she wove forward through the slower starters, skimming by with mere inches of clearance, guiding the ship as if it were an extension of herself.</p><p>Dib noted the bizarre sense of security he felt as they plowed forward through the ranks. He did not trust easily, and yet…</p><p>Tak snickered with the voice of a chipmunk being electrocuted. Within seconds, Zim’s air of anxiety vanished, and he joined her with his own jagged-edged laughter. The cryptozoologist in Dib wondered if this behavior could be compared with the social howling observed in wolf packs. The realist in Dib wondered if it was worth letting go of the seat to cover his ears.</p><p>The ship shimmied around another square-hulled Irken vessel and suddenly they were shooting across the low wake of the bay. Dib counted eight Drifters in front of them, Esh-El’s included. A fog bank squatted low over the water, but the crystal ship sparkled through it like a diamond in smoke.</p><p>Dib grabbed Tak’s shoulder without thinking. “Can we overtake them?”</p><p>Tak didn’t shrug him off. “We need to keep an even pace. Besides, we don’t want to make ourselves a target.”</p><p>She had a point. Zipping into first position would draw negative attention, and though shipboard weapons were restricted, other forms of warfare still appeared to be allowed.</p><p>“Sounds good,” Dib said. “I can watch the stern in case anyone comes for us.”</p><p>Tak nodded sharply and Dib started for the back. Zim caught his wrist.</p><p>“Wait. When did you last eat?”</p><p>“Who are you? Foodio?” Dib asked with an anemic smirk. Now that Zim mentioned it, he sensed the sharp talons of hunger closing around his stomach. He also became aware of a need to relieve himself, and was glad of the fact that Vortians apparently required similar facilities as humans did, and that Tak hadn’t reconstructed this ship’s head into a weapon closet or something.</p><p>Zim roughly threw Dib’s hand aside and reached for his PAK. He muttered to himself as he fumbled around in the topmost port and grabbed a fistful of objects, which he dropped into his lap and parsed through. Dib sighed impatiently as Zim inspected the items with increasing agitation.</p><p>“Don’t worry about it, Zim. I’m going to the back. If you find something edible, chuck it at me. But <em>tell </em>me you’re chucking it first.”</p><p>“Shut up, stink-face,” Zim hissed. “I’ve got it right… here…”</p><p>Dib – who had been mean-mugging the glint of Esh-El’s ship in the distance – returned his attention to Zim as he trailed off. Zim’s claws held something thin and black, but before Dib could identify it, Zim had jammed it and the other odds and ends back into his PAK.</p><p>“What was that? Some kind of dagger?”</p><p>“Eat your breakfast and mind your own business,” Zim growled as he launched a packet at Dib’s face.</p><p>“Ow! Hey! You eat something too, OK?” Dib rubbed the sore spot on his forehead left by the snack. “Asshole…”</p><p>“I hate you both so fucking much,” Tak said through locked teeth.</p><p>For a couple hours, Dib watched through the rear hatch as various ships approached or fell further behind. The first few times a racer came within range, he’d announce it to Tak and Zim and wait with a pounding heart for it to make a move. And yet no one acted aggressively. Perhaps the most rambunctious of the pack had been eliminated in the first leg. Or perhaps starting shit while speeding over an ocean was simply foolhardy, especially when many of the competitors appeared to be Irken. Who knew what toxins permeated the seas of a planet such as Currus, to say nothing of the fauna that could be lurking just beneath the surface. While sapient life hadn’t been able to take permanent hold here, a host of fierce predators seemed to be thriving.</p><p>As much as he knew it would jinx him, Dib acknowledged his boredom. He rolled the hem of his shirt between his fingers, scratched at the soft stubble forming on his chin, clicked his tongue, hummed. In theory, the sun should have been high by now, but the fog still clung to the water, bleeding the barrier between sky and sea. Dib imagined shapes in the dense gray.</p><p>In fact, when the lightning first flashed, Dib assumed it was a trick of the eye. The following roll of thunder was harder to dismiss.</p><p>“Coming up on a storm system,” Tak said. “Still nothing behind us?”</p><p>“Pretty dead back here. Haven’t seen anyone in a while,” Dib said.</p><p>“The fleet’s spreading out. That’s always how this portion goes,” Tak said.</p><p>Dib moved forward to hear her better, his eye still on the rear window. “Always? Have you participated in the Round-the-World Rally before?”</p><p>“Of course not,” Tak replied, sounding offended. “I’ve never needed to engage in such a risky and wasteful competition before now. I merely did my research. Something the two of you have clearly never heard of.”</p><p>Dib slung his arm through the rungs of the ceiling port ladder. “Sure. What did your ‘research’ tell you about this leg?”</p><p>“For starters, I learned that touching the seawater is a death sentence,” Tak said. “It’s incredibly corrosive. If a ship goes down, no one bothers trying to retrieve its crew.”</p><p>Dib’s suspicions were confirmed. “So no one picks a fight out here without being certain they can end it.”</p><p>“You’re not as stupid as you look. And that’s saying something.”</p><p>“’Don’t crash in the ocean’ seems pretty obvious to me,” Zim said. “Did you learn anything of actual value, or was that it?”</p><p>To Tak’s credit, she remained level. “I also learned that our greatest foe in the oceanic portion of the race is the environment itself. Frequent storms, waterspouts, impenetrable fog, those sorts of things.”</p><p>An electronic chirp sounded from that dashboard.</p><p>“What was that?” Dib asked.</p><p>“Energy warning. Disregard it,” Tak said.</p><p>Dib frowned. “Are we still on track to reach the shore before we run out of power?”</p><p>Tak didn’t answer right away. Dib couldn’t see her expression from behind the cockpit seats, but her silence didn’t bode well.</p><p>“If we fly a straight course, we’ll be fine,” she eventually said.</p><p>“And if we don’t?” Zim asked.</p><p>“Do you really need to ask?”</p><p>Another crescendo of thunder rumbled through the Drifter, and dark swirls of storm clouds stretched across the windshield.</p><p>“I’m guessing our ‘straight course’ takes us straight into that, doesn’t it?” Dib asked. “Can this ship handle a hurricane?”</p><p>“Calm down. It’s not a hurricane. So melodramatic,” Tak said.</p><p>“I know, right?” Zim said.</p><p>“Zim. Really?”</p><p>Zim stood in his seat and faced Dib. “It’s just a little rain. Nothing to get worked up over.”</p><p>“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Mr. Cowers-Under-the-Bed-During-Thunderstorms,” Dib deadpanned.</p><p>Zim’s face purpled. “LIES AND SLANDER!”</p><p>“I have photographic evidence.”</p><p>“Even if that were true, it was <em>years </em>ago, and it was a strategy to lull you into a false sense of security! A strategy which succeeded! Victory for Zim!” Zim raised his arms in a triumphant pose and almost lost his footing on the seat.</p><p>“I should have dumped the two of you as ballast at the last port,” Tak said.</p><p>“But you didn’t,” Dib said with a tight smile.</p><p>Tak dragged her hand down her illusioned face. “I am excruciatingly aware of that. Now, if you’re done testing my patience, I suggest we all focus on getting through the storm.”</p><p>Dib’s smile flattened. “Right. Anything we should be doing to help?”</p><p>“I don’t fucking know. Just… brace yourselves and don’t distract me.”</p><p>Dib wondered if asking her whether the ship had another hidden seat somewhere counted as a distraction. He settled for holding onto the back of Zim’s seat as the thunder tolled louder and the gray wall of water approached. His eyes wandered toward the complex energy meter that Tak had checked before. Its red glow did nothing to ease the knots in his stomach.</p><p>The first smatterings of rain burst across the windshield and were swiftly whisked away by a wiper system. Dib almost chuckled at the normalcy of it, such a mundane but admittedly necessary component to an alien craft. He found a strange comfort in that.</p><p>But then the deluge came. The hull shuddered as the torrent pounded down with the sound of a thousand mallets striking a steel drum. The previously comical wipers struggled to catch up with the  blur of water outside.</p><p>The yoke rattled and jerked in Tak’s hands. She grit her teeth, straining to maintain her flightpath. Lightning flashed white through the cabin, brighter than Dib thought possible. The immediate boom of thunder resonated in Dib’s chest, and suddenly, the gravity of the situation magnified in his mind. Images of ship shrapnel sinking into black water, the distant, diminishing pink glow of Zim’s PAK…</p><p>“Why aren’t we above the storm?” Zim shouted as the Drifter wobbled under the downpour.</p><p>Tak’s beady Vortian eye darted toward him. “What are you talking about?”</p><p>“Only an idiot flies directly into a storm like this,” Zim said. “You should let me drive!”</p><p>“You can’t seriously be <em>this </em>stupid,” Tak said. “You know the rules. We have to stay close to the ground. Er, water. The rules didn’t magically change for this leg of the race.”</p><p>An uneasy twinge pulled at Dib’s heart, but Zim spoke before he could chime in. “I know that. Of course I know that. I meant to say, ‘why aren’t we flying <em>around </em>the storm?’”</p><p>As if in answer, the fuel meter chirped again.</p><p>“We don’t have the energy to risk it, remember?” Dib reached over the seat to touch Zim’s shoulder. Zim flinched away from his hand.</p><p>“Yes! Yes, I remember. Obviously,” Zim said in a brittle voice. “But… But this is impossible! Can’t you see that? The storm will tear us apart!”</p><p>“I’m not repeating this conversation with you,” Tak said.</p><p>Another blinding flash, punctuated by gut-roiling thunder.</p><p>“But the waterspout!” Zim said.</p><p>Dib saw it just as Tak began to ask what he meant: a spiraling column of water, almost indistinguishable in the unending rush of gray, stretching from the sea to the sky and drawing rapidly closer. Or rather, the Drifter sped rapidly toward <em>it. </em></p><p>“Fucking sure,” Dib cursed. “What next? Sea monsters?”</p><p>Tak’s fake horns pricked up like dog ears. “Where?”</p><p>Dib’s nails bit into the hard seatback. “Nowhere! It was a joke! But you see the waterspout, right?”</p><p>“I see it.”</p><p>Dib gave her a second to react, but she held the course. “So <em>avoid it!</em>”</p><p>Her eyes darted toward the energy meter. “Can’t.”</p><p>“Are you telling me it will take less power to fly directly into a fucking tornado?” Dib’s voice scraped his throat and was still barely loud enough to be heard over the storm.</p><p>“I…” Actual fear flickered across Tak’s features. “I don’t know. We can’t afford to swerve too far.”</p><p>The gauge chirped. The Drifter bucked against the building vortex.</p><p>“It doesn’t matter, does it?” Dib didn’t care that the words came out in a whisper. “We can’t afford to avoid it, but we can’t afford to fly through it either… There’s not enough power to get to shore, is there?”</p><p>He hadn’t expected Tak to hear him, but judging by the way her shoulders tightened, he guessed that she had.</p><p>Zim – who until now had been staring silently at the waterspout – stood from his seat with uncharacteristic composure. “Then we have to swerve. Do everything we can to avoid it.”</p><p>“This ship can’t handle a water landing,” Tak said. “The water’s too corrosive, and if you knew about the creatures that dwell in the deep…”</p><p>“We’re not going to crash, scaredy-smeet,” Zim sneered. “We just need more time. Dib!”</p><p>Dib reflexively jumped to attention.</p><p>“I need your lanky body. NOW.”</p><p>Dib clenched his teeth to prevent the slap-happy impulse to accuse Zim of flirting from escaping his mouth. Zim grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the cockpit, toward the line of lockers along the cabin wall. The Irken began throwing open the locker doors, inspecting the jumble of machinery within them.</p><p>“Hey! Is any of this stuff important?” Zim shouted forward, waving a bundle of copper wires above his head.</p><p>“Of course it’s important! I don’t travel with deadweight!”</p><p>“That’s almost a compliment,” Dib muttered under his breath as Zim loaded his arms with assorted bits of metal.</p><p>“I’m borrowing it anyway!” There was a hint of sing-song inflection to Zim’s voice. “Don’t hit the waterspout! It’s the big swirly bad thing you’re flying toward! In case you weren’t sure!”</p><p>“The only thing I plan on hitting is <em>you</em>, Zim! You’d better not ruin any more of my shit!”</p><p>Zim repeated her last sentence in a squeaky, mocking tone, but fortunately for him, a growl of thunder drowned him out.</p><p>Wind buffeted the ship and Dib stumbled, almost losing his hold on the material Zim had laden him with. Zim steadied him with a hand on his elbow, then pulled him down into a clear space on the cabin floor.</p><p>“OK… We’re building something here, right?” Dib asked as he splayed out the components for Zim to peck through. “What are we making?”</p><p>“A system to recharge the ship’s batteries.” Zim selected several lengths of metal tubing and arranged them parallel to each other on the ground.</p><p>A flash, followed by a boom like an ancient tree splitting.</p><p>“Zim… You’re not seriously thinking of harvesting lightning…”</p><p>“It’s free electricity,” Zim said as his nimble fingers knit lengths of cable together into a wide-gauged net. He moved so swiftly, as if powered by muscle-memory, as if weaving an energy harness out of scraps was as natural to him as any other hobby.</p><p>Despite Dib’s uncertainty, he held the structural poles steady for Zim to construct around. “Yeah, I get that, but even if we manage not to electrocute ourselves or fry the ship in the process, lightning is so concentrated and so fast… There’s no way we could capture enough to power a ship of this size. Not without prolonging the charge somehow, and we don’t have time to build something that could do that.”</p><p>“We don’t need to,” Zim said. “This is a Vortian vessel, which means its batteries use time-crystal circuitry to repeat charges.”</p><p>Zim passed a loop of wiring to Dib, who reflexively continued the same weaving pattern that Zim had started on his side of the net. “Time-crystals? As in the hypothetical, infinitely-repeating state of matter?”</p><p>“Not hypothetical. Actual, but imperfect.”</p><p>“Holy shit… Shouldn’t that mean the batteries never need recharged?” Though Dib hadn’t been terribly invested in his father’s Perpetual Energy Generator back in the day (considering he’d been preoccupied with thwarting an alien invasion at the time), he’d overheard plenty of rambling sessions about it. Professor Membrane had intended to synthesize his own time-crystals to power PEG, but when that fell through, he moved on to other, more classified methods. In theory, time-crystals were the key to true perpetual energy… If only they existed.</p><p> “Pay attention. I <em>told </em>you that the system is imperfect,” Zim said. “The artificial crystals can refract and extend electrical charges, but only within certain bounds.”</p><p>Dib rotated the metallic web they’d constructed, tweaking stray bits of wiring into place as he did. “I take it a direct lightning strike could be contained within those bounds?”</p><p>“Mhm!” Zim stepped back to admire their handiwork, which Dib held up for his inspection. “Excellent! Now, to connect it!”</p><p>Zim dropped to his hands and knees, feeling along the floor’s paneling until his fingers found some kind of tab. He pulled it, causing a square of metal to fold aside and expose a glass cannister approximately the size of a fire extinguisher. Within it, blue tendrils of energy danced and splayed in spidery patterns. Dib noted the delicate fractals embedded within the cannister.</p><p>“That’s the battery?” Dib asked. “It’s tiny…”</p><p>“It’s <em>efficient</em>,” Zim corrected, drawing a long cable out from beneath the battery’s bed.</p><p>When Zim handed him the end of the cable, Dib immediately set to work. He toyed with the receptors for a few seconds, recognizing certain structures, intuiting the purposes of others. This energy system might have been new to him, but so many of the components felt familiar in his hands. The sound of the storm faded into a cottony thrum as he directed his full attention to attaching the charging cable to their makeshift capturing device.</p><p>Zim’s hands brushed against Dib’s as the two fell into a silent and easy rhythm. Even with the thunder and the rocking and the impatient and unrepeatable exclamations from the cockpit, a peculiar calm swept over Dib. This wordless choreography of work felt natural, comfortable. Correct. He sensed where Zim’s hands would go, predicted when to pass a curl of wire his way. He felt warm, and not just from the exertion. His eyes flitted up in time to catch Zim’s smile, and the warmth intensified.</p><p>Once the connection was complete and a wrap of something foamy and theoretically shock-proof had been affixed to its base, Dib sat back on his heels and gave it a final check. Satisfied with what he saw, he handed the unwieldy contraption to Zim and headed for the ladder to the roof hatch.</p><p>He’d made it up two rungs before Zim grabbed his shirt to stop him. “Where are you going?”</p><p>“To the roof. You can pass me the net and I’ll secure it to the rail.” Dib released the latch above his head and prepared to push it up. If he moved quickly enough, maybe he could evade an argument.</p><p>“You need a harness!”</p><p>Shit, Zim was right. Judging by the alarm bleeping from the front of the Drifter, however, there was little time to waste. “I can reach from the hatchway. You just hold onto my ankles, OK?”</p><p>“Fine. Go, then! Quickly!”</p><p>With a hum of surprised agreement, Dib shoved the hatch open. Even though he’d braced for it, the onslaught of frigid water and ripping wind knocked him backwards a rung. Warm arms encircled his calves and he regained himself, trusting Zim to hold him firmly in place on the ladder. Dib angled his head to the side to catch his breath and call for Zim to pass the device up.</p><p>Getting the awkward hunk of would-be modern art up through the hatch took some maneuvering, but Zim balanced and steadied Dib as he worked. Dib made sure to grip the lightning rod by the insulated base as he reached for the nearest railing. Rain blurred his vision and threatened to tear his glasses from his face, forcing Dib’s head low as he strained forward.</p><p>The rail remained just out of reach.</p><p>“I need to go up a step!” Dib screamed to be audible above the tempest.</p><p>Zim must have heard him, because he eased his iron grip just enough for Dib to move up another rung. Half of his body now lay flattened along the roof, soaked and wind-torn, with his arms extended in front of him in a blind search for the railing. His rapidly numbing fingers finally made contact with the railing’s base.</p><p>A sudden gust tossed the Drifter. Dib’s stomach flipped as he slid on the deck, one hand clamped around the device, the other clinging to the railing.  Lightning flashed far too close for comfort, and the accompanying thunder quaked the hull beneath Dib’s torso, adding to his queasiness. He willed his shaking hands to work faster as they bound the rod into place.</p><p>It could only have been a minute or two, but it seemed like hours before Dib felt confident that the rod was securely attached. He released his hold and began pushing himself back with the heels of his hands, keeping as low a profile as possible to reduce his chances of being sucked from the hatchway and into the whirling void.</p><p>Another blast of wind knocked the ship, but this time, it didn’t correct itself and level out right away. Instead, the deck abruptly dropped away from Dib. He cried out in alarm as he floated up, either to be tossed into the sea or bashed against the deck when it rose again. Strong hands wrapped around his thighs and yanked him straight down through the hatchway before either horrible outcome could occur.</p><p>Dib crashed onto Zim ass first in a tangle of metal and organic limbs. Rather than throwing him off right away, Zim curled around Dib’s back and rolled him to the side, his PAK legs arching over the two of them in a protective cage. His chest against Dib’s back radiated beautiful heat, and for a moment, the tension melted out of Dib’s waterlogged body.</p><p>And then the lightning struck.</p><p>By luck alone, Dib’s eyes were closed, but he saw the awful brightness of the strike even through his eyelids. Cannon-loud thunder shook the ship and set his ears ringing. Too slowly, he pressed his hands over his ears and folded in on himself. Zim’s arms crossed over his chest, squeezing him closer as a second strike wracked the Drifter.</p><p>Dib coughed the ozone taste from his mouth and raised his voice. “Tak! Is it working?”</p><p>“Yes!” she shouted back with manic glee. “We’ve got power! We’ve got a <em>surplus </em>of power, and we’re nearly out of the storm!”</p><p>Zim’s PAK limbs slowly retracted and he loosened his bearhug. “Are we back on course?”</p><p>“We’re on course, the skies are clearing, and there’s not a ship in sight!” Tak replied. “Get up here! You need to see this!”</p><p>Dib and Zim scrambled to their feet and raced to the cockpit. Sure enough, the clouds were parting, replaced by bright patches of blue. A clear, sparkling seaway extended before them, and on the horizon, the subtle shadow of land awaited.</p><p>Without landmarks, it was hard to tell at a glance how fast the ship was moving. Dib scanned the dashboard, searching for an indicator. This felt so much faster than before, but then again, they’d not been running on a full charge.</p><p>He twisted to see through the rear porthole, where water fanned away from the ship’s engines in two towering walls of wake. No other Drifters appeared to be tailing them. In some ways that should have been a relief, but Dib couldn’t shake his sense of dread.</p><p>“How far are we from the finish?” Dib asked as he tried to wring the rainwater from his clothes.</p><p>“That land mass ahead of us should be it. We’re lined up with it perfectly,” Tak said. Something about her frank, non-insult-laden tone unsettled Dib.</p><p>Zim asked the question on everyone’s mind. “Where are the other ships?”</p><p>The sun hung low in the sky. Their battle through the storm had taken longer than Dib had realized, and he feared that the answer to Zim’s question was that the rest of the fleet had already arrived at the finish.</p><p>After everything… Last again.</p><p>No one spoke. As thrilling as their speed was, and as cheerfully as the waves reflected the sinking sun, a suffocating unease stifled the crew of Tak’s unnamed Drifter. Minute by terrible minute, the continent grew taller and more detailed on the horizon, until at last Dib could pick out trees and cliffs and the ghostly silhouettes of far-off mountains. Neither Zim nor Dib sat in the copilot’s seat, both preferring to stand at attention on either side of it, hardly daring to breathe.</p><p>“There.” Zim pointed a claw toward a shining quartz tower which protruded from the bay they were approaching.</p><p>Tak nodded. “I see it.”</p><p>The time checkpoint. Passing that would lock in their race time… It was essentially the finish line for this leg. Passing this meant they’d be able to land, refuel, and recuperate. Dib placed a hand over his cramping stomach. However they placed, he hoped they’d still have the chance to get something to eat before planning their next steps.</p><p>The closer they got, the more signs of sapient life appeared. Several floating platforms drifted over the bay like low-hanging clouds, crowded with spectators. <em>Cheering </em>spectators. Or maybe jeering?</p><p>Several marine vessels lined the final stretch as well, their decks bustling with onlookers. Many were smiling and waving bright banners. Dib distrusted the fragile blossom of hope that sprouted within him at the sight.</p><p>The ship zoomed past the time tower, and over the roar of the engines, Dib could hear the spirited cries of the crowd. He traded a look with Zim, who smiled confidently back at him. Dib returned the smile, though he wasn’t sure he should be celebrating yet.</p><p>Tak pulled back on the thruster and the ship slowed, the engines dropping in pitch to a low buzz. She steered toward a vacant shipyard on the beach and lowered the Drifter into the sand. Dib found he could breathe more easily now that they’d stopped moving, despite the presence of a small platoon of aliens jogging across the beach to greet them.</p><p>Tak leaned back in her seat and shook the tension from her hands. “Great. One of you idiots should go see what they want,” she grumbled, glaring at the approaching group.</p><p>Dib was first out the back hatch, with Zim close on his heels. His knees nearly gave out when he stepped onto the white sand, and he had to catch himself on the hull of the Drifter. Zim snickered at him but struggled with his footing as well. Dib knew this ground was solid, but after so long on a wobbling ship, his mind still expected some unsteadiness.</p><p>A dozen excited alien faces surrounded the two of them, all asking questions that the TransDibber couldn’t keep up with. Fortunately, a single, hooded alien about half Dib’s height pushed forward and addressed Dib directly.</p><p>“How did you do it?”</p><p>“Do what?” Dib asked before thinking.</p><p>The hooded alien continued. “You were last to the starting block before.”</p><p>“Yes? What of it?” Zim challenged, shoving himself in front of Dib.</p><p>“Where are the other ships?” Dib already knew it was a stupid question by the time it left his lips, and yet he was in such a state of disbelief that he couldn’t stop himself.</p><p>The hooded alien laughed, their glowing eyes narrowing in amusement. “Behind you, of course. You’re the first to the penultimate checkpoint. Congratulations!”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>What's this? Ending a chapter on a positive note? SURPRISE, Y'ALL!</p><p>... Also... I know at least one of you is studying physics... Please don't judge this update's adventure in Silly Science Shenanigans too harshly. I definitely took some concepts I picked up from a nerdy podcast and just jammed 'em in in here (with minimal research) for plot purposes.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“We’re… first?” Dib feared the simple act of speaking such a thing would undo its truth.</p><p>The hooded alien – the de facto spokesperson of the gaggle of spectators – nodded. “And straight through a storm, no less! How did you know you’d be able to weather it?”</p><p>“Ha! Storms pose no threat to an elite team such as ourselves!” Zim replied, puffing out his chest and radiating his signature obnoxious confidence.</p><p>Zim drew a deep breath, surely preparing to launch into a self-aggrandizing version of their voyage across the sea, but a strange tinkling noise interrupted him. Dib turned toward the jingling and immediately recognized its source.</p><p>Esh-El’s crystalline Drifter shot across the water and flashed past the time tower. With a sound like wind chimes clashing, the ship slowed and coasted over the crooked docks of the bay. As it angled itself toward the empty shipyard where Tak had landed, a cold lump formed in Dib’s throat. He didn’t imagine Esh-El would take kindly to coming in second, least of all to himself and Zim. Dib wanted to feel smug, but indulging in such an emotion tempted fate in a way they couldn’t afford.</p><p>While Esh-El’s vessel parked itself across the beach, a scattering of other Drifters appeared on the horizon. Dib, Zim, and the little audience they’d gathered watched quietly as the ships zipped by the timer one by one. The racers slowed well before they reached the low, ugly buildings of the bayside town and altered their courses to settle on the sand. Dib cringed at the jagged scars that ran along the keel of an Irken ship and wondered whether the damage had been caused by a collision or a creature. Tak had mentioned marine monsters… Were any capable of that kind of destruction?</p><p>Some of the aliens that had flocked to Tak’s ship started back up with their questions, but Dib couldn’t look away from the newest racer to arrive in the bay. To his shock, the bizarre, worm-like Drifter had managed to make it across the ocean. Its once fluorescently green skin had dulled to a drab gray, and while it moved at a swift pace, Dib half expected it to collapse into the water the second it passed the checkpoint.</p><p>Miraculously, the undulating, cylindrical ship and its conspicuously exposed rider stayed aloft just long enough to reach the edge of the beach, where it flopped into the sand. The pilot on its back – a broad-shouldered humanoid creature with a floating brain-like organ in place of his head – slid from atop it and crashed to the ground, raising gasps from the crowd.</p><p>Several of the aliens surrounding Dib and Zim hurried toward the fallen racer, obscuring him from sight. Dib stood on his toes, filled with morbid curiosity, but couldn’t get a clear view.</p><p>“Oh my,” murmured the hooded alien, who was straining to get a look as well.</p><p>“Oh my indeed… I do hope he’s alright.”</p><p>Dib nearly jumped out of his skin at the familiar, syrupy voice mere inches from his ear. He whirled to face the two heads of Esh-El. In his peripheral, he saw Zim freeze, antennae ridged. Even the hooded alien stiffened at Director Esh-El’s sudden presence.</p><p>“Apologies,” continued El in his velvety tones. “We didn’t mean to startle you. We merely intended to congratulate you on your victory.”</p><p>Zim made a show of inspecting his claw tips. “You came to bask in our radiance as well, eh?”</p><p>Esh tossed her head back in a laugh. “Ha! The wonders that going from last to first can do for one’s self-esteem…”</p><p>“Though you weren’t truly in last place before,” El said.</p><p>“Nor are you truly in first now.” Esh’s orange eyes met Dib’s as she spoke, her easy smile forgotten.</p><p>“Right,” Dib said, determined not to back down from the eye contact. “I guess we’ll have to wait for the finishing times to be calculated before we know where we all stand.”</p><p>“You have an awful lot of time to make up for,” Esh noted.</p><p>“Oh, you’re just bitter you came in second,” Zim said. Behind him, the hooded alien performed an awkward bow and retreated toward another of the landed Drifters. Dib flashed Zim a look that any rational person would interpret as “shut the fuck up” but which Zim seemed to take as encouragement. “You can’t stand that we beat you, can you? That’s what you get for flying around in a giant rock.”</p><p>Esh’s tongue flickered out of her mouth, but El spoke as calmly as ever. “We must admit our surprise… Newcomers often struggle in their first rallies. But it appears you’ve teamed up with another racer and made quite the sensational comeback. One that won’t soon be forgotten. Well done.”</p><p>Dib didn’t care if his smile read as fake. This conversation needed to end. “Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we need to prepare for tomorrow.”</p><p>Esh-El’s tail twitched, leaving a crescent in the white sand. “Of course,” said El, his head dipping politely. “But before you go, may we offer a word of advice?”</p><p>“We don’t take advice from losers,” Zim said, and Dib couldn’t decide whether he deserved a high five or a kick in the ass for it. He sensed neither choice would be appropriate for the situation.</p><p>“Do you know what we love most about these races?” A scale-lipped smile spread across Esh’s face once more, and Esh-El leaned forward to address Zim more directly. “We love the chance of it all.”</p><p>“As I’m sure you’ve observed, this isn’t a straightforward competition. You must account for your fellow racers, the environment, the malicious fauna… You can only guard against so much,” El said.</p><p>Dib’s eyes narrowed at the earnest, sympathetic quality to El’s voice. “You’re saying we got lucky.”</p><p>El shook his head. “No, that would be an insulting oversimplification. We aren’t attacking you.”</p><p>“We’re <em>warning </em>you,” El said.</p><p>Dib’s nails dug into his upper arms. “Warning or <em>threatening</em>?”</p><p>Esh laughed again and looked away, her eyes tracking the other Drifters as they landed. “What did I tell you, El? They’re not going to listen.”</p><p>“You haven’t said anything worth listening to,” Zim said, and Dib smirked.</p><p>El ignored them both. “See that pilot over there?”</p><p>Esh-El pointed a talon toward the collapsed worm creature (or at least, Dib <em>assumed </em>it was a creature) and the swarm of people around its rider. Someone had brought along a levitating stretcher, and the racer’s bulky body was being hoisted onto it to be carried away.</p><p>“We didn’t expect him to make it past the canyons in the first leg,” Esh said, sounding genuinely impressed. “Organic Drifters tend to struggle with the various biomes and predators of the Currus wilds. It’s a lot to put a lifeform through.”</p><p>A pair of what must have been medical bots bore the unconscious pilot away. Most of the curious onlookers wandered toward other ships, but a few remained with the sickly worm, prodding at its sides to coax it to life. It didn’t respond.</p><p>“Was it lucky of that racer to make it so far? Did fate serve him well? We may never have the chance to ask him,” El said.</p><p>“Like we said before, there are many factors to account for in this race, not least of which is your own ability to endure it.” Esh’s head turned toward Zim, her expression inscrutable. “Sometimes, your biggest opponent is yourself. You have to know what sacrifices you’re willing to make in order to win.”</p><p>“Are you done?” Dib asked flatly.</p><p>El’s jewel-like blue eyes shifted toward Dib. “I suppose we are. We’ve taken enough of your time. But please… Do take care of yourselves.”</p><p>“We hope to see you at the finish line.” Esh winked, and the two-headed Director sidled back toward their ship.</p><p>As they disappeared into a crowd of fans, Zim feigned gagging. “Blech. ‘Your biggest opponent is yourself’… What a load of dookie. Their biggest opponent is ZIM! I mean… US!”</p><p>Dib waved them off. “They’re just trying to get under our skin. They’re threatened by us.”</p><p>“As they <em>should </em>be!”</p><p>Zim kicked the sand for emphasis, but the gesture unbalanced him. Dib reached forward and caught him by the shoulders before he could tumble backwards. As Zim pushed away Dib’s hands and repositioned himself, Dib took stock of his appearance. Even aided by the warm glow of the approaching sunset, Zim’s skin looked washed out. Dark bags still hung beneath his glassy eyes, and his antennae drooped lower than usual.</p><p>Zim started prattling about how something must have tripped him, but Dib only partially heard him. Esh-El must have registered Zim’s worn state and decided to use it to sow insecurity. A cheap intimidation tactic under the guise of “advice.”</p><p>Dib had to admit that it was nice to be perceived as a threat for once. Still, Esh-El’s comment about making sacrifices disquieted him.</p><p>“I’m gonna check in with Tak, then maybe go into town, see if there’s anything edible there,” Dib announced. “I think we need something more substantial than a smooshed granola bar for dinner.”</p><p>Zim followed Dib back onto the ship. “I’ll come with you! We deserve a <em>real </em>snack! A victory snack!”</p><p>Dib smiled, reassured by Zim’s enthusiasm.</p><p>“I could go for a victory <em>drink</em>, too.” Tak stood near the pilot’s seat, stretching the stiffness out of her arms and wearing the subtlest suggestion of a smile on her lips. “If you two handle the rations, I’ll get started on repairs.”</p><p>“Repairs?” Dib asked.</p><p>“I didn’t modify this ship with a lightning-powered battery in mind. I need to make sure everything’s in order and give it a proper charge.”</p><p>“Right. Victory snacks and victory drinks, then,” Dib said.</p><p>“If you’ll just hand us your cred chip,” Zim said, holding out his palm expectantly.</p><p>Tak blinked at him for a moment, and then doubled over with laughter. After nearly a minute of shrieking giggles, it became evident that she had no intention of stopping. Even as the boys made their way out of the ship and off the beach, her laughter followed them, fading only as they entered the bustle of a dockside market.</p><p>Dib supposed that was only fair.</p><p>*****</p><p>By the time Dib and Zim had finished shopping, the sun had set, and an unexpectedly merry mood had transformed the beach. The colorful running lights of the sixteen still functioning Drifters that had arrived so far gave the shipyard a carnival-like atmosphere. Several crews had built bonfires near their vessels, where they sat on blankets and laughed at unheard jokes over mugs of mysterious fluids. Rival pilots waved to each other and tossed playful insults back and forth, as if the field of racers hadn’t been cut in half during the most recent leg. Somewhere nearby, an instrument that sounded a bit like an electric flute piped a jig.</p><p>For such a dangerous event, the remaining racers seemed remarkably jovial, and the energy was contagious. Dib bobbed his head to the music and snuck a hand into one of the snack bags Zim had saddled him with.</p><p>Apparently, he was not as stealthy as he thought. Zim swatted his hand away before Dib could grab anything.</p><p>“No! Bad Dib! Not until I’ve tested everything!”</p><p>Dib crinkled his nose and shook the sting out of his hand. “You said all this stuff should be fine.”</p><p>“<em>Should </em>be. We must make certain.”</p><p>Dib rolled his eyes. Maybe it was for the best. He could easily imagine Tak being offended by his premature snacking. Irkens were so particular about their food rituals, and Dib knew the art of snacking was a sacred one. At least, as close to sacred as anything was for the imperial space-bugs.</p><p>Dib’s stomach growled. Hopefully, Zim would be quick with his testing protocol, because Dib was long overdue for a real meal. In the chaos of the cluttered food stalls, Dib had managed to pick out a few almost Earthen-looking entrees, and he hadn’t stopped salivating since.</p><p>“Took you long enough,” Tak said as they rounded the back of the Drifter. She stood over a driftwood fire a few feet from the bottom of the rear ramp and used a PAK limb to adjust the logs. Dib wasn’t sure why a fire was necessary, but he had no intention of complaining. Sunset had brought with it a mild chill, and Dib was drawn to the heat of the flames. He let his bags plop to the ground so he could warm his hands.</p><p>“Hey!” Zim pointed at his dropped bags. “This is mostly <em>your </em>dinner, you know!”</p><p>“You said you were checking everything anyway,” Dib said as he rotated his hands in front of the fire.</p><p>Zim grumbled and sat down with their spoils. He sorted out a vibrantly blue bottle to toss to Tak, who deftly snatched it out of the air. She used her thumb-claw to pop the cap from the bottle, floated her antennae over the opening to inspect it, then took a deep swig. Despite the full-body shudder that followed, whatever she’d swallowed seemed to satisfy her, and she sighed contentedly as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.</p><p>“Not bad for bottom shelf,” she quipped.</p><p>Zim snarled as he pulled his testing tools from his PAK. “Maybe if we’d had a proper budget…”</p><p>Dib winced a little and wondered how much Skoodge had intended to spend when he gave them his cred chip. The portside market had seemed cheap enough, but Dib still wasn’t sure how prices translated between cred, monies, and local currencies.</p><p>“On that note, I should check in with Skoodge and the base,” Dib said. “There’d better be something edible for me here when I get back, OK?”</p><p>Zim waved Dib off. “Yeah, whatever. Be quick. Don’t go far.”</p><p>Dib started toward the shore, away from the music and celebration, searching for someplace a little quieter, more private. All the Drifters had landed well away from the waterline, which made sense, considering what Tak had said about its corrosive nature. Still, it didn’t look so different from the oceans of Earth as Dib approached. Low waves tumbled over each other, sprawled up the sand, and receded, leaving a trail of foam. A briny tang hung in the air, and as Dib drew a deep breath, he picked up a hint of citrus. Even knowing how dangerous the water was, he was tempted to strip off his boots and wade in the wake, like he used to do on the extremely rare beach trips he’d been on back home.</p><p>He settled for strolling along just out of reach of the waves as he hailed Skoodge from his TransDibber. The line fizzled and beeped a few times before the call was picked up.</p><p>“Hello? Dib?” Skoodge’s voice jittered.</p><p>“Hi! Yes! Can you hear me OK?” Dib reflexively lifted his arm, as if a few inches of altitude would bolster the flimsy connection.</p><p>“Yes, I can hear you!”</p><p>Dib smiled. He’d increased the range of his communicator while he was on Oobli A, but hadn’t had the opportunity to test it until now. “Great! Keep talking… I think I can clear up the fuzziness…”</p><p>“Oh, uh, OK… Well, I have to admit, I’m relieved to hear from you. I tried the ship, and then Zim’s PAK, but when neither responded, I began to worry something had happened. Tenn and I were just searching for your communicator’s signal when you called.”</p><p>Dib’s brows furrowed as he tweaked the settings in his TransDibber. “To be honest, something <em>did </em>happen. Several things, actually. But we’re alright. When did you try to call Zim?”</p><p>“About an hour ago. Is he with you now?” Skoodge said, his voice much clearer.</p><p>Skoodge not reaching the destroyed ship was one thing, but the PAK was another. Dib would have to ask Zim about that later… He wouldn’t put it past him to blatantly ignore a call from Skoodge.</p><p>“No, he’s working on dinner. It’s just me.”</p><p>“OK. When you say that several things happened, what do you mean?” Skoodge asked. “Did you find an LSI-Ring?”</p><p>Dib sank down onto the sand, settling in for a long conversation. “Not exactly…”</p><p>As Dib recounted the story of their arrival on Currus and the series of misfortunes that followed, Skoodge remained silent. At a few points, Dib wondered if the call had dropped, but his TransDibber still showed Skoodge as online.</p><p>“Wow… That sure <em>is</em> several things,” Skoodge said when Dib finished catching him up. “But I’m not sure I understand why you’re racing. Couldn’t you just steal GIR and the ring?”</p><p>“Apparently, that’s a no-go. But we’re actually in a good position here. I think we can win this!”</p><p>Skoodge sounded less than convinced. “I hope you’re right… And you said Zim’s been sleeping more?”</p><p>Dib scooped a handful of sand and sifted it through his fingers. “Yeah… He’s being careful with his PAK. Conserving energy, eating and sleeping a little more. It’s definitely a touchy subject, but he’s been honest with me, so that’s good. I’m just glad he’s taking it seriously.”</p><p>Skoodge went quiet. Dib checked his wrist again to make sure the connection hadn’t broken.</p><p>“Skoodge…?”</p><p>“Sorry, hi, yes, I’m glad too,” Skoodge said. Another heavy pause. “What… uh, what has Zim told you about his PAK, exactly?”</p><p>Dib tilted his hand, stopping the sand-flow, and inspected the tiny pool of glittering grains in his palm. “He told me that his PAK corruption has been present for years, and that it’s been slowly spreading. He’s finally making an effort to counteract the spread, and it obviously took him a lot to admit to that. It’s a little weird to see him sleeping so much, and he looks… Well, he looks a little ragged, but the climate here… I mean, you’ve been here before, you know what I’m talking about. I’m sure I’m not looking my best either.”</p><p>“Mm… How’s his memory?”</p><p>“What do you mean?” Dib’s fingers curled over the sand, protecting it from the salty breeze that rolled in from the sea.</p><p>“I mean, is he forgetful? Er, more forgetful than usual?”</p><p>“You know Zim. Sometimes he just… doesn’t pay attention.”</p><p>“I guess,” said Skoodge. Dib wished he’d developed a video component for his TransDibber. He didn’t like the length of Skoodge’s pauses. “And he lost consciousness during the wreck?”</p><p>Dib’s hand closed completely. “Not during the wreck. After. He pulled me out of the ship, and I think maybe that was too much. During the wreck, he was fine. Well… Just before it, he seemed a little out of the loop… We scraped the canyon wall… But it was a narrow path, and with all the chaos and everything…”</p><p>Skoodge said nothing. For some reason, that pissed Dib off.</p><p>“It seems like you want to say something, so you may as well just do it. I’m tired and hungry and I don’t know what else to tell you,” he said. He licked his dry lips, realized the sharpness of his words, and softened. “I’m worried about him too, you know. But he’s finally being real with me about what’s going on, and I know it isn’t great, but he’s making it through. We both are. And we have Tak with us now, and we’re finally winning for once in our lives.”</p><p>“No, I know, that’s good… That’s really good. But I’m just thinking… Maybe I could send Tenn out there? And a couple other Zoo Irkens are still hanging around Oobli A who might be willing to go for a cut of the prize. They’d arrive late, though. Maybe you could find a way to track the winner, and then-”</p><p>“We’re going to win this goddamn race,” Dib snapped. He checked himself, worried that his voice would carry across the beach to the other racers. Thankfully, it sounded even more raucous up there than before. “We know what we’re doing. You’re talking like we’ve already lost.”</p><p>“I don’t mean to… I just think that maybe a contingency plan wouldn’t hurt.”</p><p>Dib’s fist tightened around the sand, and he imagined squeezing until it crystalized. He could barely feel it in his palm. “That’s fine and all, but since nobody can arrive in time anyway, I think we should focus on the very real chance we have at succeeding.”</p><p>The TransDibber fell silent again, and Dib’s jaw clenched.</p><p>“You want to say something. I’m not stupid. What the hell do you know that <em>I </em>don’t, and why can’t you just fucking say it?”</p><p>“He’s my friend, and I’m permitted to worry about him. <em>And </em>you.” Skoodge’s voice was low and steady, and although he didn’t directly answer the question, Dib got the feeling he’d hit a firm boundary. “Just look out for each other, OK? Win the race, get the supplies, and come home as quickly as you can. Please.”</p><p>How easily Skoodge tossed around words like “friend” and “home”… but Dib didn’t have the time or energy to unpack that. “I promise. Anyway. I just wanted to keep you updated. Anything of interest happening on Oobli A?”</p><p>“Hm, I suppose we have a bit of news. We’re picking up whispers that the Resisty is up to something on Machinus. It makes me all the more anxious for you to find what you need for Zim’s PAK on Currus. If I were in charge of the Resisty, I wouldn’t want to sit on that place for long. Too risky. It’s safer for them to destroy it to prevent Empire loyalists from accessing all that PAK tech.”</p><p>Dib nodded, forgetting for a moment that Skoodge couldn’t see him. “Right, that makes sense. If… <em>When </em>we get the LSI-Ring, we won’t need Machinus anyway. Rek said she’d be willing to install it. Probably safer like that anyway.”</p><p>“You’re probably right,” Skoodge said, but Dib took little comfort in the words. “That’s all I have from here. I’m glad you called. Update us again tomorrow? After the race?”</p><p>“Definitely.”</p><p>“OK, thank you.”</p><p>Skoodge drew an audible breath, and Dib expected him to add something. He didn’t.</p><p>“Anything else?” Dib prompted, a little impatiently.</p><p>“Just… Could you do me a favor?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“Can you ask Zim to call me back? There’s something I want to talk to him about.”</p><p>Dib couldn’t keep the suspicion out of his voice. “And what’s that?”</p><p>“Just following up on a conversation we had before. Can you please tell him to call?” Skoodge requested, undeterred.</p><p>“I’ll see what I can do, but it’s Zim, you know?”</p><p>Skoodge sighed. “I know. Still, worth a shot.”</p><p>Dib felt a twinge of guilt upon hearing Skoodge’s defeated tone. He wasn’t sure why he was being so bristly with the well-meaning ex-invader. So far, Skoodge had been nothing but helpful. Even so, Dib couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being intentionally left out of something.</p><p>But he’d spiraled around that drain many times before. He’d made a conscious, deliberate decision to trust Zim, and whatever it was that Skoodge wanted to talk to him about, he’d have to leave it to Zim to handle.</p><p>Dib willed his hand to open and allowed the last trickle of sand to fall away. “I’ll do my best, Skoodge. We’ll talk to you soon.”</p><p>“Oh good… OK. Until then!”</p><p>The call ended, but Dib remained seated, staring out over the deceptively peaceful waves, into the great black void of the ocean. With no moon to brighten the night, there was no visible separation of sea and sky, no true boundary between the infinite darkness below and pinpricks of starlight above.</p><p>Dib’s fingers burrowed into the cool sand, seeking an anchor, as if he might be pulled out into the swallowing blackness. There was nothing there to grip. Despite the absence of an actual threat, dread spiked from the pit of his stomach.</p><p>He yanked his hands up again and scrambled to his feet. He was wasting time. That wasn’t dread he was feeling… It was merely hunger. Dib just needed a decent meal and a night’s rest.</p><p>He turned toward the lights and sounds of the makeshift Drifter camp. There was no need to fret over contingency plans and secret conversations and the ever encroaching darkness. There was only now. This moment. This night before everything was set right again.</p><p> Dib hurried across the beach and didn’t look back.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm sorry that 90% of my chapter notes are "Sorry I've been slow, things have been rough," but uhhhh..... Sorry I've been slow.... things have indeed been rough... </p><p>BUT. Now I'm equipped with 100% more therapy! YEEHAW! </p><p>As an additional note, this chapter was originally going to be much larger, but I split it up to avoid overwhelming myself (and to really let Dib marinate in denial). So to those of you who may have expected a certain moment to happen here... I'm getting there. Stay tuned. &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Heads up: there's a little bit of alcohol in this one, followed by some spice. We're finally earning that ZaDr tag, y'all. Nothing too crazy, just some excited smoochin'. I wanted to surprise you with it, but I know it's a bit of a hot-button topic, so here's your advanced notice.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Food had never tasted so good.</p><p>Dib shoveled spicy, savory noodles into his mouth with a pair of chopstick-like utensils, pausing only to chase bites with draughts of water. The purple coloration of the noodles took some getting used to, but the flavor was distantly familiar, like something he could have ordered from a Thai place back home. As he crunched into what he hoped was some kind of vegetable, he tried to remember the last time he’d eaten Earth food. <em>Real </em>Earth food, not just stale meal replacement bars.</p><p>“Slow down, Dib-stink. You’ll choke,” Zim said, his face a blend of amusement and disgust.</p><p>Dib wiped his chin and reached for his water, thanking the stars for whatever act of parallel evolution had resulted in alien entrees that were not only compatible with his biology but delicious as well. Of course, that could have been the hunger talking.</p><p>Dib drained his drink and set aside the canteen with a satisfied sigh. “Worry about yourself first, space-boy. How’d you manage to get sauce on your antennae?”</p><p>“Eh?!” Zim’s cheeks flushed as he grabbed at his antennae and furiously began to preen.</p><p>Tak laughed at his self-consciousness and took a sloppy swig from her bottle. A PAK limb craned from behind her and nudged another piece of driftwood into the fire.</p><p>Dib cracked open a new carton of food. “Since when do Vortians have PAKs, Tak?”</p><p>“Fuck off,” Tak grumbled as the limb retracted, but her tone lacked its usual sting. In fact, Dib detected the start of a grin at the edge of her mouth. “No one even cares.”</p><p>“If no one cares, why wear a disguise at all?” Dib asked.</p><p>The hint of a smile extinguished. “Precautions. I don’t care if the other racers don’t think I’m a Vortian. Mostly, I don’t want my face associated with that prize. Esh-El’s Order does a decent job of protecting the race winners from thieves in the short term, but I’m still not keen on advertising my real identity. That, and I don’t know if…”</p><p>Tak trailed off, took another drink, and stared into the fire.</p><p>Dib coaxed her on. “Don’t know if what?”</p><p>“Never mind. It’s none of your business.”</p><p>“Right. Guess I should have seen that coming.” Dib plucked a fried dough-ball out of the carton, inspected its golden-brown surface, and popped it into his mouth, expecting a sweet pastry. Instead, though the outside was doughnut-like, its center was crunchy and bitter. The more Dib chewed, the more intense the flavor became, until he could no longer fake his way through. He spat the mouthful into the fire and tried not to gag.</p><p>“Dib?!” Zim scrambled closer to him and grabbed his face. “Is it an allergic reaction? Is it dissolving the vulnerable soft tissues of your mouth? This is what you get for rushing Zim’s testing process! This is what your greed has won you!”</p><p>“Get off, I’m fine!” Dib pushed Zim away and turned his head to cough. Desperate to wash away the aftertaste, he grabbed for his canteen, only to find it completely empty.</p><p>Tak groaned and pulled another blue bottle from a box next to her. “Palate cleanser. Think fast.”</p><p>She tossed the bottle over the fire and Dib, vision blurred by tears, barely managed to catch it before it hit the ground.</p><p>“Wait! I haven’t tested that yet!”</p><p>“Yes you did, Zim,” Tak said, sounding more weary than irritated.</p><p>Zim crossed his arms. “When?”</p><p>“When you demanded that I give you one.” Tak pointed at the empty bottle wedged into the sand near where Zim had been sitting.</p><p>Zim blinked at the bottle. “Oh. Yeah. Can I have another?”</p><p>Tak shook her head in disbelief but pulled another drink from the case and chucked it at Zim with a little more force than necessary. “There, maybe it will calm you down a little. You’re the loudest thing on this beach.”</p><p>As reluctant as Dib was to admit it, Tak was right. Around them, bonfires had dimmed and the songs and jibes had dwindled into low conversations. As Dib opened his drink, he reflected on the couple weeks he and Gaz had spent on the road one summer, touring aimlessly across the country in a Membrane Labs ultra-collapsible RV. Just two college students, renting cheap spaces in campsites, arguing about which roadside attractions were worth stopping at. The campsite nights were often like this… Rows of quiet campers and fading fires, the scent of woodsmoke, sparks floating up into the midnight blue. A rare and nourishing moment of serenity.</p><p>Dib grinned and put the bottle to his lips. The liquid tingled on his tongue and the fruity flavor quickly masked the sour aftertaste from the doughballs. When he swallowed, he picked up the subtle bite of alcohol and hoped he hadn’t made a mistake. Still, if Zim’s testing equipment hadn’t clocked it as a poison, it was probably fine.</p><p>“Thanks, Tak. For the space equivalent of a Smirnoff Ice, this isn’t too bad,” Dib said.</p><p>The sketch of a smile returned to Tak’s face. “Certainly could be worse. Just mind that you don’t make yourselves sick. We have an early start tomorrow, and we need to finish about five minutes ahead of the fleet to make up for the first leg.”</p><p>Right. This wasn’t a camping trip. Dib sat up straighter. “You know the course, right? What’s our next terrain?”</p><p>“Mountains. Bitter cold, thin air. The usual scrap-hungry predators lying in wait.”</p><p>“Pssh, mountains shmountains,” Zim said. Half of his drink had disappeared while Dib wasn’t looking. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”</p><p>“Again, we need to place well ahead of our competitors in order to win. Now’s not the time to get cocky,” Tak said. “On that note, I have a few more adjustments to make on the ship before morning.”</p><p>“Do you need a hand?” Dib asked as Tak stood and brushed the sand from her pants.</p><p>“You idiots would just slow me down. I’d rather you slept.” Tak’s Vortian face crinkled in mild disgust. “And bathed.”</p><p>Dib risked a quick sniff test and grimaced. “Fair enough. Goodnight, Tak.”</p><p>She grunted and headed around the side of the ship, presumably to work on the nose. Dib settled back in the sand and waited until he heard the whir of a drill.</p><p>“So, Skoodge wants you to call him,” Dib said as Zim pounded the last of his drink.</p><p>“Oh, I’m sure he does,” Zim said, drying his mouth with the back of his arm. “He’s always been so clingy. Even when we were smeets.”</p><p>“Any idea what he wants to talk about?” Dib took another sip and noticed for the first time a pleasant floating sensation and a slight fuzziness to his thoughts. Come to think of it, he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol in ages. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to be buzzed.</p><p>“I’m sure it’s nothing. The usual fretting, blah blah blah.”</p><p>Zim upended his bottle and snaked his tongue into it, hunting the last drops. Dib’s face warmed, and he distracted himself by peeling the label on his own drink.</p><p>“Still, he sounded worried, and if you could- HEY!” Dib reached to grab Zim’s hand before it could sneak into Tak’s booze box. “Let’s not overdo it, yeah? We have a race to win tomorrow morning, and a hangover won’t make that any easier.”</p><p>“Unhand Zim!” Zim said, making no effort to escape Dib’s hold. “I am perfectly fine! My PAK will ensure that I experience no detrimental side effects.”</p><p>“I thought we weren’t pushing our luck on the PAK stuff,” Dib reminded him. He glanced at Zim’s fingers, which had laced into his. “Your hands are cold…”</p><p>“Of course they are. You’re letting the fire burn out,” Zim grumbled.</p><p>Dib smirked. “Well, let me fix that for you.”</p><p>He finished his drink in a few gulps and – somewhat begrudgingly – withdrew his hand from Zim’s. When he stood, the beach tilted for a moment, and then straightened. Yikes, his tolerance had really slipped… Dib made an effort to appear steady as he dragged another chunk of driftwood into the embers.</p><p>“Wait here a sec,” Dib instructed Zim as the log crackled with fresh flames. Zim’s eyes followed him while he ducked inside the ship to retrieve his coat from the bed of scraps.</p><p>“I don’t want it,” Zim muttered petulantly as Dib offered him the coat.</p><p>“I thought maybe we could share it,” Dib said. “You know, since it’s getting a little chilly…”</p><p>Zim’s antennae twitched toward Dib and he scowled. “Not with all that stink radiating off of you. Sit. But not too close.”</p><p>Dib did as he was told and held the coat in his lap as Zim fished around in his PAK, tongue blepping in concentration.</p><p>After a few seconds of fruitless fumbling, Dib spoke up. “Do you need help?”</p><p>“No. Shut up. There’s just stuff in the way of my chalk,” Zim said, and began pulling out handfuls of stowed items.</p><p>Dib spread his jacket on the sand so Zim could place the contents of his PAK on it. He kept his mouth shut as Zim deposited Dib’s old car keys onto the coat, along with a wad of receipts, a tangle of yarn, and a familiar black blade.</p><p>No, not a blade… A feather.</p><p>As much as Dib wanted to know why the hell Zim had his old keys, the feather took priority. He lifted it from the coat and turned it so its void-dark barbs caught the firelight. “Holy shit… Zim, how long have you had this? I thought we lost most of the stuff from the Voot!”</p><p>Zim neatly plucked the feather from Dib’s hand and replaced it with a piece of cleansing chalk. Dib took the hint and started rubbing the grease from his face. He preferred real showers to chalk-baths, but it was still refreshing to feel the grit lifting and dissolving with each pass.</p><p>“I was just keeping it safe,” Zim said. He cradled the feather in his hands and slid his thumb down its length, lost in thought.</p><p>Dib slipped the chalk beneath his shirt in a modest attempt to erase the layers of sweat that had accumulated under his arms. “Yeah, but when did you get it? Was it on the ship when Tenn salvaged it? I can’t believe it didn’t float off with the rest of my collection.”</p><p>Zim’s brows furrowed. “I… I don’t know. I think… Maybe it was…”</p><p>“In the Battle Zoo? After I…” A phantom pain twinged in Dib’s gut, and he reflexively reached toward the laser scar with the chalk.</p><p>Zim tensed and his hand closed tightly around the feather.</p><p>“Careful,” Dib reminded him.</p><p>“That must have been it. Yes. I thought you’d want to keep it. You said it was your favorite.”</p><p>Dib smiled and set aside the chalk bar. “Not gonna lie, I’m kind of impressed you remembered. Can I see it now?”</p><p>Zim hesitated before he passed it over. Dib smoothed the bunched barbs, savoring the softness of the feather’s edge as it brushed across his fingers.</p><p>“My only real piece of cryptid evidence,” Dib said. “Besides you, of course.”</p><p>Zim hummed and uncrumpled a piece of construction paper to inspect the crayon doodles on its surface. He squinted at the design, sneered, and wadded it back into his PAK, shoving the other scraps and trinkets in after it.</p><p>“You know what it is, right?” Dib asked, trying to hold Zim’s attention.</p><p>Zim closed his PAK port and blinked up at him.</p><p>“It’s a mothman feather,” Dib said, aware of the goofy grin spreading across his face. “Or, well, it <em>could </em>be a mothman feather. Whatever it is, it’s the only thing that ever stumped Dad. It matches no known animal. I’d almost given up on the whole paranormal investigator thing by the time I found it… I was a junior in college, and my little West Virginia investigation was more of an excuse to go sight-seeing than to actually hunt a cryptid. I was a serious sociologist in the making, you know? I’d accepted that sometimes stories are just stories. Meaningful stories, but still fiction…”</p><p>Zim scooted a little closer to him, silent, listening.</p><p>Dib’s smile wobbled as more memories surfaced. “Things were kind of rough back then. It felt like Dad had been right all along, and I’d wasted so much time on stupid shit. I mean, I was right about you, at least, but it wasn’t like you were really a threat by then. I felt so directionless. Hollow.”</p><p>Dib paused, swallowing back an unexpected lump in his throat. He said nothing as Zim lifted his coat, shook out the sand, and draped it across their shoulders. Dib started to shift to make more room for Zim, but the Irken only leaned in harder, pressing close and resting his head against Dib’s arm.</p><p>Unsure of how to react, Dib carried on as though nothing had changed. “Finding and analyzing this feather was exactly the win I needed at the time. A little spark of hope. Proof that I wasn’t completely crazy. That there was still more to discover on Earth! Wonders beyond the scope of Membrane Labs.”</p><p>To Dib’s surprise, Zim suddenly nuzzled his way beneath his arm. Dib swallowed and repositioned his arm around him, hugging him to his side and debating whether he was holding him too tightly or not tightly enough.</p><p>“Uh… Are you… cold?” Dib asked. “Maybe I should add another log.”</p><p>Zim shook his head, his antennae tickling Dib’s ribs. The chalk had cleansed Dib’s skin, but he was certain his sweat-stained shirt still stank. He fought the self-conscious urge to push Zim away. Zim’s body fit so comfortably against his…</p><p>“Yeah, uh, I’ll get another log,” Dib announced.</p><p>When he tried to stand, Zim held him back with a hand to his chest. “No. Please.”</p><p>Dib rarely heard that word from Zim, and it froze him to the spot. “Zim? Are you OK?”</p><p>“Yes, I…” Zim stopped himself with a sharp intake of breath. “… No. The feather… What if it was a mistake?”</p><p>Dib wished he could see Zim’s face from this angle. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“What if Membrane Labs was wrong? What if it’s just an ordinary feather?”</p><p>“I don’t know, man. Dad’s always been <em>real </em>good at empirically decimating my discoveries,” Dib said. Suddenly, he craved another drink. Maybe the bubbles would boost his mood back up.</p><p>“He still could have made an error in his analysis. Or perhaps he lacked sufficient context. Maybe I should have grabbed something else from the Voot. Everything was happening so fast…”</p><p>“No, not at all, this is perfect,” Dib interrupted. “You were right. It’s my favorite. And even if it turned out to be a fake, I’d still value it, I think. It’s never really been about finding proof of supernatural creatures. I’d much rather find the truth, no matter how boring it is. That’s what’s important to me.”</p><p>Zim’s body relaxed a little. “Oh.”</p><p>Dib watched a few sparks sputter up into the darkness and smiled again. “Thanks for saving it for me.”</p><p>“Dib…”</p><p>With feline fluidity, Zim slid into Dib’s lap, facing him, legs on other side of Dib’s hips, just like that night on Dendroba. Dib held his breath and wondered whether Zim’s sensitive feelers detected his heart as it knocked around in his ribcage like a trapped bird.</p><p>“What’s up?” Dib’s voice cracked, undermining his attempt at sounding casual. His eyes darted, searching for other racers who might witness this suggestive embrace. Fortunately, the other fires had collapsed into embers. As far as Dib could tell, they were alone.</p><p>Zim’s hands held Dib’s face to anchor his attention forward. “Zim needs-… I need to talk to you about something.”</p><p>Dib’s stomach churned, and for a second, he wondered if Zim’s food and drink analyses had been faulty. “OK?”</p><p>“But first I want to acknowledge your exceptional performance in this race,” Zim said. The words felt blocky, rehearsed. “Because of you, we have a shot at victory. You… Dib…” He swallowed, leaned a little closer. Or had Dib leaned forward? “You are amazing.”</p><p>Dib wasn’t sure how his hands had landed on Zim’s hips, but there they were, holding him in place. The unease in Dib’s gut became a sprawling warmth. <em>Amazing… </em>He could almost believe it, but only because it was Zim. And Zim was so close, and so warm, and smelled faintly of dry leaves on a hiking trail. And his eyes… Gleaming in the firelight, pink and wet and…</p><p>“Zim… can I…”</p><p>Dib could barely breathe the words, but it didn’t matter. Zim closed the difference and pressed his lips to Dib’s in a hard kiss. Perhaps sensing that it had been too forceful, Zim pulled back a little, but Dib stopped him, cupping a hand behind his smooth head as his other hand hiked Zim’s body even closer. Stomach to stomach, heat flaring, melting the stiffness from both of their faces.</p><p>Suddenly, Dib fell backwards into the sand, bringing Zim down with him. The momentum deepened the kiss, and Zim’s serpentine tongue pushed its way past his lips. Dib moaned, unable to stop himself, desperate for more contact with Zim. His teeth found Zim’s lower lip as his hand slid ever further down the Irken’s back.</p><p>Zim withdrew slightly, gasping for breath. But no, that wasn’t quite right… It was less panting, more cricket-like chirping, coupled with the low vibrations of the purrs Dib had been noticing more and more frequently lately.</p><p>Oh fuck… They couldn’t do this. Not here.</p><p>Goddamnit, why was this happening <em>now</em>??</p><p>“Shh… Wait…” Dib’s voice sounded as solid as tissue paper. He weakly cleared his throat and tried again. “Someone might… Tak might see us.”</p><p>Zim’s antennae darted back. He hovered inches away from Dib’s face, looking somewhere between embarrassed and disappointed. “Oh. Yes, of course. I… I don’t know what came over me.”</p><p>Dib awkwardly shifted himself up as Zim climbed off of him and resumed his place against his side. “I guess two bottles of magical blue space booze came over you. And me.”</p><p>“I didn’t mean to… I…” Zim trembled.</p><p>“No, it’s OK.” Dib’s own voice shook a little, and he clenched his fists to distract himself from the greedy ache that lingered in his hips. “Uh, more than OK. I didn’t know that you, um…”</p><p>He had no idea how to verbalize all the years of suppressed pining. Hell, Dib was only now coming to terms with that reality. He’d felt that magnetism before… How had he failed to put it all together? Not to mention the bed-sharing, the hand-holding, Zim leaning his cheek into Dib’s palm, the soft embraces, the impulsive but purposeful sacrifices, the purring…</p><p>Dib buried his face in his hands. “Fuck… I’m so fucking stupid.”</p><p>“The Dib is far from stupid,” Zim said softly. “For a human, of course.”</p><p>Dib laughed dryly at that. “You’re such an asshole, but…”</p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>Zim had stolen the words from Dib’s mouth, and for some reason, Dib’s eyes began to well with tears. He blinked them back and looked to the star-spattered sky. “I love you, too.”</p><p>The purrs started up again, low and steady, camouflaged by the crackling of the campfire and the muted hum of Tak’s tools. The sound buzzed through Dib’s body. It swirled in his chest and circulated out through his blood, sparkling his fingertips, dizzying his head. The hot tears continued to build in his eyes, and he couldn’t help but giggle at the absurdity of the moment.</p><p>Zim noticed his laughter and craned his head up to see Dib’s face. “What’s so funny?”</p><p>“Nothing, I guess,” Dib said, trying and failing to contain his slap-happy chuckles.</p><p>“This is a serious matter.” Zim’s voice was quiet but stern.</p><p>“I know, trust me, I know.” Dib squeezed his eyes shut and tensed his muscles for a few seconds, willing himself into stillness. “I’ve just spent so long wondering about our friendship, and what it means… What’s you, and what’s the PAK, and whether that even matters. I can’t help it. I always want the truth. I want it clear. Black and white. And for you to just straight-up kiss me, and tell me you love me, when I wasn’t even sure that was a sentence you could say… It’s a lot to process. And to be honest, I don’t know why you’ve chosen <em>now </em>to say it.”</p><p>“It felt important to.”</p><p>A charred log crumbled apart in the fire, stirring up a small flurry of sparks. It would burn out soon, just like the other pilots’ fires. Dib knew they couldn’t afford to stay up much longer. There was still such a large challenge ahead of them.</p><p>“Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?” Dib asked.</p><p>“Eh?”</p><p>“Before we…” Dib fought through his own disbelief. “Before we kissed, you said you wanted to talk to me about something. Was this it? You wanted to tell me that you… love me?”</p><p>“… Right, yes… Yes, that must have been it. I’d forgotten,” Zim said.</p><p>“Yeah, the kissing was a little… distracting…” Dib coughed. “But why now?”</p><p>“Why do you have to question everything?”</p><p>“Zim, are you scared?”</p><p>Zim didn’t respond.</p><p>“It’s completely OK to be scared right now. I’m scared too. But we <em>won </em>today, and we can do it again. And even if things don’t go exactly as planned, I’m sure we can come up with something.” Dib smiled to himself. “Somehow, we always do.”</p><p>“I’m tired.”</p><p>Dib’s spirit flagged a little at Zim’s flat reply to his inspirational words. “Yeah… Me too, man. But we’re going to be OK, I promise. I hate when people only talk about how much they care for each other when they think they’re going to die or something. So, that better not be what you were doing. I know it’s been a really touch-and-go couple of days, but we’re tough bastards to kill, right?”</p><p>“Right,” Zim muttered into Dib’s shirt.</p><p>“And even if we lose, we have other options, you know? There’s still Machinus. I mean, we destroyed a giant space coliseum. How hard can it be to sneak onto a planet and steal a single part?”</p><p>“Mm…” Zim burrowed closer. “Can we go to bed?”</p><p>Apparently, the conversation was over.</p><p>“Of course,” Dib said.</p><p>When he moved his arms beneath Zim to scoop him up, the Irken didn’t resist. He simply clung to Dib as Dib carried him bridal-style into the back of the ship, his jacket still slung over his shoulders. Dib blushed at how romantic the action might seem in another context.</p><p>Dib settled Zim into their raggedy nest and slid in next to him, facing him. Zim’s eyes were already closed, and Dib was somewhat relieved to see that the tension lines in his face were smoothing away as Zim relaxed into sleep.</p><p>He wanted to reach out and touch Zim’s face. Maybe leave a kiss between his eyes. Stroke his antennae. <em>Something</em>. But it didn’t feel right. They’d slept and snuggled together before, but now it was different. There was a new and sudden intimacy, and Dib didn’t know how to navigate it.</p><p>It was just about words, right? Everything was still the same between them. There was just new language attached to their friendship. Was it still friendship? Or something else? It wasn’t like the “love” thing was new. Wasn’t it love that had taken them this far in the first place? Wasn’t it love that drove Zim to jump between Dib and the creekitee on Sirus Minor? Wasn’t it love that fueled everything Dib had done to save Zim from the Battle Zoo?</p><p>The love had merely been unspoken before. What did it even mean for Zim to bring it out into the open like that? What did the phrase “I love you” mean to him? To any Irken?</p><p>Zim’s eyes opened a crack. “Your heart is loud.”</p><p>“Wha?” Dib’s hand flattened over his chest reflexively. Damn, his heart really <em>was </em>pounding. “Oh, uh, sorry?”</p><p>“No. It’s good.” Zim curled up beneath Dib’s chin and sighed. “I love it.”</p><p>“Oh wow… Really just throwing that word around now, huh?” Dib cringed at his own lame attempt to lighten the mood.</p><p>To Dib’s relief, Zim didn’t seem to notice. Dib willed his breath to slow, reached his arm around Zim, and tried to turn his brain off. Overthinking wouldn’t make their situation any less awkward. Right now, the best he could do was get some sleep. Everything else could wait.</p><p>Shit. Skoodge. Dib had almost forgotten. But Zim was already purring against his chest, and he didn’t dare wake him. Rest came first. Zim could call Skoodge in the morning. No problem.</p><p>Dib hugged Zim closer, his thoughts finally slowing.</p><p>One more night like this, and then they’d be home free.</p><p>*****</p><p>A distant shout shocked Dib from his sleep. He sat straight up, hand reaching for the laser at his waist, belatedly realizing he’d taken off his holster before dinner.</p><p>Dib stumbled to his feet and grabbed his weapon from its storage cabinet. “Zim, wake up, something’s…”</p><p>But when he turned, Zim wasn’t in the bed.</p><p>Another shout broke the pre-dawn silence. “I don’t have time for this! Where are you?!”</p><p>Dib’s blood turned to ice. <em>Zim </em>was the one shouting.</p><p>He dashed for the back hatch and tripped out into the open air, narrowly avoiding the ashes of last night’s fire. Tak was already there, laser in hand, false horns pricked to listen for further outbursts.</p><p>Which was odd, because Dib assumed that Zim had been shouting to find her. Who else would he be searching for?</p><p>“What’s going on?” he asked as he scanned the beach for movement. Several other racers were looking around in confusion from the doors of their Drifters, squinting in the early morning light.</p><p>“Zim’s lost his fucking mind,” Tak snarled, not even sparing a glance at Dib. “He’s going to get us disqualified or <em>worse </em>if he doesn’t get his shit together!”</p><p>Dib cursed under his breath. “Where is he?”</p><p>Tak’s horns flexed again, and she pointed toward a gap in the ships. “I hear PAK legs in that direction.”</p><p>Dib took off at a sprint in the direction she’d indicated. The sand slowed his steps, and it felt as if he were running in a nightmare.</p><p>“Enough! I’m not playing the ‘hide-and-seek’ with you anymore!” Zim shouted, closer than before.</p><p>Dib rounded the corner of a ship and swerved to avoid the baffled pilot who had just stepped out of it. Ahead of him, in an open space between the parked Drifters, Zim stood tall on his PAK limbs, his back to Dib. A handful of spectators had gathered nearby, all careful to stay out of range of his deadly robotic legs.</p><p>Tak arrived a moment after Dib. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her flip open a pocket on her belt and grab tiny vial. Though he didn’t know what it was, he held out a hand to stop her as he moved forward into Zim’s radius.</p><p>“Zim! Are you looking for me?” Dib called, forcing a smile across his face. “I’m right here!”</p><p>Zim turned toward him, a wild light in his eyes, and Dib involuntarily took a step back. This was not the Zim he had kissed by the fire. There was no softness here, only the vicious desperation of a cornered animal.</p><p>“Dib-stink! This is all your fault!” Zim accused as he loomed over Dib. “You were supposed to be watching him!”</p><p>“Watching who?” Dib asked, dreading the answer.</p><p>Zim scoffed. “GIR, of course!”</p><p>Dib froze, mouth open, speech failing. As he struggled to find words again, his eyes were drawn to a two-headed figure standing on the opposite side of Zim. Esh-El watched the scene with their hands folded behind their back, their long tail swishing slowly, like a cat stalking its prey.</p><p>“He’s not here, Zim. Remember?” Dib asked gently.</p><p>“What are you talking about? Of course he’s here. Where else would he be? You just let him wander off,” Zim said through bared teeth. “Now, make yourself useful and help me find him so we can move on.”</p><p>More onlookers appeared amongst the ships, murmuring to each other and pointing at Zim. Behind him, Dib heard something click. Tak’s weapon? She wouldn’t shoot Zim, right?</p><p>“Don’t just stand there, you bumbling ape!” Zim said in an even louder voice. “Get moving!”</p><p>“Zim, you have to calm down and listen to me.” Dib took a few tentative steps forward. “GIR isn’t here. I think you just had a bad dream or something, but it’s OK. We’re going to get GIR back. Just come with me back to ship, alright?”</p><p>“I <em>am </em>calm!” Zim yelled. “And I’m not going anywhere until-”</p><p>A sharp pop sounded behind Dib and Zim jerked backwards as if he’d been struck by something. His claw grasped at his shoulder, and for a split second, his angry expression twisted into confusion.</p><p>“What was…?” Zim’s face slackened before he could finish his sentence. His metal legs wobbled, stuttered to rebalance themselves, and then collapsed, dropping Zim face-first onto the ground. He lay still as the legs retracted and his PAK ports sealed.</p><p>The crowd gasped and then fell quiet in anticipation.</p><p>“What are you waiting for?” Tak whispered harshly to Dib. “Grab him and let’s get the fuck out of here before we draw even more attention.”</p><p>“Is he-?”</p><p>Tak holstered her pistol. “He’s fine, just unconscious. Now <em>move.</em>”</p><p>Dib hurried forward and lifted Zim’s limp body from the sand. As he straightened up, he felt Esh-El’s four eyes following him. He refused to look in their direction, but as he turned back and trotted after Tak with Zim slung over his shoulder, he swore he heard a hissing laugh.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I spent way too long finding an ending point for this chapter so just have it and be nice to me, yeah? I have to keep reminding myself that I'm doing this for fun, and it's not meant to be some ground-breaking literary work. It's fun, angsty, easily-digestible space adventures, now with spacebug kisses. I keep getting slower and slower with my writing out of self-consciousness (which I know is an excuse I pack into every update, but talking about it in the notes helps me feel a little less awful). But better late than never, right? I hope you get a kick out of it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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